Falling Into Place
by Kristina-Rose-Ivashkov
Summary: Cammie meets Zach Goode a NASCAR driver who thinks Cammie is an actor but she is really an actuary he thought she was the actor who was attending his ex wifes wedding with him and then it all fell in place. Rated T for language and other things
1. Preview!

**This is my new story and it's not Vampire Academy related sorry for you people who love VA but this is for another series I've finished reading a while back and got an idea it's the Gallagher Academy Series for all you people who haven't read it well read it. It's a great series so well enjoy…**

**Oh yeah I'm basing this off a book I just recently finished reading Speed Dating by Nancy Warren so it isn't really my plot but I fixed it a little so it was Gallagher Academy related oh and NO SPIES JUST NORMAL!**

**Disclaimer-**

**I, Kristina Nghe, do not own the Gallagher Academy Series and the book plot of Speed dating the rights go to Ally Carter and Nancy Warren!**

**NOW ON TO THE STORY WELL THIS IS THE PREVIEW AND TELL ME IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE IT!**

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><p>Cammie Morgan only 21 years old, she would be the youngest recipient of the prestigious Sharpened Pencil Award for being chosen Actuary of the Year…<p>

"Our colleague? You've been seeing someone behind my back this whole time!" Cammie shouted at her fiancée in shock

"I didn't mean for it to happen it was an accident. I swear. We were both working late one night on the Wayman file and… one thing led to another. I didn't know how to tell you. I'm so sorry" he said hanging his head down…

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><p>Cammie got dumped because she wasn't 'exciting' enough until she met him on accident…<p>

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><p>Zach Goode was a NASCAR driver<p>

He was an excellent driver till one day he lost and he just kept losing after that a never ending slump, that is until he met Cammie…who is thought was an actor…

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><p>"I'm so, so sorry," she stammered. "I would never normally enter someone else's hotel room—"<p>

"No problem. I'm glad Grant let you in. I was waiting for you. Come on, let's go" He said looking her up and down making her remember she was still in her underwear. "Nice dress."

"It's a slip" she murmured looking at the floor…

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><p>Cammie soon found out she was attending his ex-wife's wedding with him.<p>

Where she soon met Macey and her new husband Preston…

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><p>Zach soon found out she wasn't an actor but was an actuary.<p>

"Kiss me for good luck?" she asked him and he did…

And that's when she decided to ruin her career but exposing he ex-fiancée and his new girlfriend or fiancée whatever she was to him she just told everyone in that award presentation about them and now she was paying the consequences…

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><p>There was a knock on Cammie's hotel room and she went to answer it not expecting to get the worst news ever she was even expecting good news but sadly that wasn't the case…<p>

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><p>"Hey Zach!" she shouted stepping forward with her hand outstretched as though she were hailing a cab.<p>

He slowed and pulled close to where she stood.

"Is the offer still open?"

He grinned at her, the dare in his eyes "Hop in"

"Cameron, I strongly advise you to think about your behavior" said her ex-fiancée behind her, where all those curious, gossip hungry eyes looked on.

As they pulled away they heard her ex shout, "Are you crazy?"

"Oh yes," she cried turning to send him a goodbye wave. "That's why I'm on stress leave!"…

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><p>Then Cammie got to see Zach's world…<p>

"There's no door," was the first thing she said when she approached the car.

"No headlights, either," he said pointing to where they were painted on.

"And no windshield wipers" said Grant trying to help…

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><p>"Do you have any superstitions before a race, Zach?" the reporter asked.<p>

"I sure do. Kissing beautiful women is about the luckiest thing I know" And with that he turned to Cammie, who'd been doing her best at hiding from the glare of the camera lights, and pulled her close. Her eyes widened and he like the way she looked up real close…

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><p>Zach couldn't believe it.<p>

They'd won…

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><p>"Should I get my hair cut!" she yelled through the door<p>

"No!" came an answer. And it wasn't Rhoda who answered…

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><p>"You're trying to distract me," she said<p>

"From what?" he sounded all innocent, but the scar was changing shape, from an L to a C, always a sign that he was amused trying not to show it

"From the fact that's you're doing sixty-four in a fifty-five-mile zone."...

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><p>"So who booked you for this?"<p>

There was a pause. "Macey."…

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><p>Cammie and Zach had fallen into the routine of racing couples: Thursday to Sunday at whatever track the schedule required. After the race, they'd fly back to Zach's home base. He owned a house about an hour's drive outside Charlotte, and that was home for half a week unless he had sponsor events, promotions or appearances or various kinds. They'd spend Sunday night to Wednesday at home and then start the whole thing back up again…<p>

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><p>"I hurt your feelings," he said softly.<p>

She nodded. "A little"…

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><p>"Cammie Morgan."<p>

Sharp hazel eyes surveyed her. "Hey, Z, is this one an exotic dancer, too?"

"Liz, please"…

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><p>"Oh, yes, we have. More fun than I ever imagined. But Zach…" She sucked in a breath and told him the truth, even though she knew it would ruin everything. "I've fallen in love with you"…<p>

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><p>Cammie and Preston had walked in on Macey and Zach kissing. Zach was sitting in one of the deep wicker chairs with Macey perched on his lap, leaning over and kissing him passionately. Her hands were in his hair and her body tilted into his.<p>

Zach wasn't exactly throwing her to the ground. His hands were on his shoulders, not exactly yanking her in closer, but not throwing her off his lap, either…

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><p>"Nice going, Zach," said Grant<p>

"Thanks. Where's Cammie?" he yelled.

His crew chief gazed around. "I don't know. She was here before."

He jogged through the craziness, but he didn't see her. He checked with the closest security guard, who said "Zach. That nice young gal you keep kissing left this for you."

An awful coldness settled in gut…

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><p>"I need to find out when the next plane to Chaska, Minnesota leaves."…<p>

"You didn't change," she said stupidly.

"No time," he panted, and she realized he'd run a long way.

"Where did you come from?"

"Helicopter."…

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><p>"It's nice to know there are some surprises still ahead of us." …<p>

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><p><strong>AND THERE IT IS REVIEW AND I WILL HAVE THE FIRST CHAPTER UP SOON!<strong>


	2. Chapter 1 BreakUp!

**AND HERE IS CHAPTER ONE I HAD SUCH A POSITIVE REVIEW THAT I DECIDED TO WRITE THE CHAPTER SO HERE IT IS! ENJOY AND REVIEW!**

**DISCLAIMER-**

**Cammie- "Kristina does not own Gallagher Academy Series, Ally Carter does though"**

**Kristina- "Yeah sadly I don't"**

**Zach- "And she doesn't own the plot for this story Nancy Warren does"**

**Kristina- "Whatever, now onto the story!"**

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><p><strong>OH YEAH AND I WANTED TO THANK THESE PEOPLE THANK YOU FOR THE POSITIVE REVIEWS!<strong>

**Charliee- Thank you for saying this is amazing and don't worry I'll write this till the end!**

**Gallagher Girl5- Thank you and enjoy!**

**zammieloverforever- Thanks! **

**Zachlover16- That's what I was going for thank you!**

**Aly8188-Thank you I was trying to make the summary good!**

**Chelly is a Gallagher Girl- Thank you I hope you enjoy the story!**

**Whoosh- Heres the first chapter I hope it was fast enough for you**

**AngelOfNoWings- Hope you're not disappointed **

**Broken But Not Shattered- Thanks hope you like it**

**KGB- Hope I put the chap up fast enough**

**Lovelymemories- It is a little confusing since it was a preview up this chap should clear some of it up**

**REVIEW I WILL WRITE FASTER!**

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><p>Cameron Morgan was looking forward to the most exciting night of her life. Only 21 years old, she would be the youngest recipient of the prestigious Sharpened Pencil Award for being chosen Actuary of the Year. For the hundredth time, she tracked across the carpet of her hotel room in Charlotte, North Carolina, to practice the acceptance speed she's give tonight at the closing banquet of the actuarial association dinner. She wanted to come across as humbled to be receiving this great honor, but also proud of the work done by her company.<p>

"Ladies and gentlemen, colleague, friends," She paused as she'd been taught in the public speaking refresher course she'd taken the second she learned she'd be making this speech. _Breathe_, she reminded herself. _Look out at the audience. Smile. _"Trust is the cornerstone of our business," she informed the blue-upholstered chair in the corner of the room. She put an emphasis on _trust_. Such a nice, strong word to start a speech with. _Trust._

There was an hour or so before she needed to head down to ballrooms A and B, where the American Association of Actuaries was holding its annual conference and awards banquet. She'd sent her dress down for pressing earlier in the day, wanting everything perfect. Cammie bit her lip. The dress ought to be back by now.

Willing to leave nothing to chance, she called down to Housekeeping. After many long, lonely rings of the phone, a hesitant female voice said, _"Hola?"_

It didn't take Cammie long to realize that the women spoke almost no English, and Cammie's Spanish wasn't any better. She thought after a few minutes of labored conversation that she'd got her request through. She wanted them to hurry up with her dress and send it to her room. She'd barely replaced the receiver in its cradle when it rang.

"Cameron Morgan," she said at her most formal, because you never knew at a business conference who might be calling. But, as she'd hoped, the voice at the other end belonged to Joshua Abrams, her colleague and fiancée.

"Cammie it's me, Josh," he said. He was so sweet. They never shared a room when raveling because both agreed it gave the wrong impression. Indeed, this time Josh had gone so far as to book a room on a different floor.

"Hey, Josh. Are you going to pick me up here so we can arrive at the banquet together?" That was one of the perks of working with her fiancée, she'd long thought. She rarely had to attend big business events along.

"Um, I was hoping to come up now and talk to you for a few minutes."

He sounded odd. As if he was nervous. Probably on her behalf. "Great. I can practice my speech on a real person. Come right up."

Or maybe, she thought, as she replaced the phone, he wanted to make love before the ceremony. Her pulse quickened. What a wonderful way to relax before her big moment. Their sex life had been sparse to nonexistent lately, so the idea of him wanting to jump her bones right before the banquet filled her with delight.

She'd planned to surprise him with some sexy new lingerie she'd bought—well, sexy for her. Her makeup, hair and nails were all done, courtesy of the hotel salon, so it took her no time at all to slip into the black demi bra and high-cut panties and the black silk slip she'd bought at Victoria's Secret. Her black stockings were sheer as a whisper and her black sandals were strappy, with a low but shapely heel. She'd debated stilettos but you didn't work in the actuary business without learning a lot of very useful facts, like the stats on back pain and injury stemming from the wearing of high-heeled shoes. Besides, she didn't want to stumble on the way to the stage. Not in front of all her professional colleagues.

She was tingling with anticipations when a knock sounded on her door. Of course, they wouldn't have a lot of time, but with Josh not a lot of time was necessary. Oh, well. Once they were married and things settled down, they could spend more time on the intimate part of their relationship.

She struck a sultry pose, then felt ridiculous, so she simply reminded herself to stand up straight, then opened the door.

Josh stood on the other side wearing khakis and a golf shirt. The fact that he wasn't yet dressed for the banquet made her very glad she'd slipped into her sexy underwear.

But Josh didn't even seem to notice. He glanced up and down the hall before he entered her room, looking furtive and not remotely like a man bent on a prebanquet quickie.

"Josh? Is everything all right?" She'd wondered if he was a little jealous that she's received this honor instead of him. Surely he could be happy for her, as she'd have been for him. They were planning to spend their lives together, Wasn't a marriage all about mutual respect, compatibility and support?

"I have something to tell you, Cammie, that may shock you," he said, glancing up and then away. His light brown hair was shorter than usual, she noted. He must have had a trim. He'd never be confused with Brad Pitt, but he was a pleasant looking man, she thought. Maybe a little on the pale side, but he did suffer from asthma.

She smiled at him. "Is it good news?" This was the kind of conference where networking was abundant. Had he been offered a job of some kind?

"Good news?" He glanced at her again, as though surprised by the question. Then, as was typical of him, he took a moment to ponder. Josh always looked at all sides of a question. It was a quality she admired in him.

"In some ways it is good news. Very good news," he said. "But _you_ may not think so."

"It's a job offer, isn't it? Is it very far away from Chaska?" The possibility had always existed that one of them would get a better offer elsewhere. They'd never discussed what they'd do in that eventuality. Did she have to be tested now? Couldn't Josh have waited until after the banquet?

"No. It's not a job offer. It's…" He blew out a breath. "It's personal. I don't know how to begin."

The first icy claws of apprehension scratched the surface if her happiness. "Personal?"

"I never meant to hurt you, Cammie. I swear. The whole thing was…unplanned."

"What whole thing?" she asked feeling a numbness start to creep into her toes.

Josh's pale cheeks took on a faint pink hue and he looked everywhere but at her. She'd never seen him so uncomfortable.

"I've fallen in love," he said at last. "With someone else."

She blinked. Opened her mouth and then closed it again.

When she didn't speak, he went on. "I never meant for it to happen. To hurt you. Behind your back. I don't know what I was thinking. I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how. I…"

"You're in love with someone else?" she repeated stupidly

"Yes"

"But we've interviewed caterers, picked out china. We're on the third draft of our guest list…"

He was rubbing a spot on the carpet with the toe of his brown tasseled loafer, giving the nub of worsted his full attention. After she petered out, there was a moment of painful silence.

"Who is it? This person you've fallen in love with." Her voice was calm, for which she'd always be grateful for.

"Dee Dee Varsan" (Made up last name). He made eye contact and then his gaze slid away/

Cammie stared at him. "Our colleague? You've been seeing someone behind my back this whole time!" Cammie shouted at her fiancée in shock

"I didn't mean for it to happen it was an accident. I swear. We were both working late one night on the Wayman file and… one thing led to another. I didn't know how to tell you. I'm so sorry" he said hanging his head down.

"Why are you telling me now?" She raised a hand to her head. "I can't even think. I'm supposed to give a speech and all I'll be able to concentrate on is that my date for the evening is in love with another woman."

"Well, um, that's why I wanted to tell you now. You see…" He sighed heavily and sat down in the wing chair beside the small table where she'd set up her laptop. "Dee Dee's going to have a child."

"She's pregnant?" Cammie's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes"

"Then this must have been going on for months."

"About four months."

"Oh, Josh. How could you betray me like that?"

"I wanted to wait until after this conference to tell you. You must have felt that things haven't been close between us for some time."

She snorted. "Now I know why."

"I like and respect you Cameron. You have a find mind and you're an excellent actuary. I mistook professional respect for…warmer feelings"

"What are you saying?" All her life she's searched for the one person who would love her forever. A man like her father, who'd be faithful and true to his family. She wasn't looking for fireworks and matinee-idol, multimillionaire hotshots. All she'd ever wanted was a steady, decent man who'd love her and any family they might have. She'd aimed so low, and still she'd failed. Somehow she needed to understand why.

"You're a wonderful person, but you're not…Well, Dee Dee's exciting. She's passionate. I realized that's what was missing with us."

Her leaden stomach grew heavier. "So, I'm not exciting enough for you?"

"It's not your fault, Cammie. I need more."

"Well, I guess you're getting it." She rubbed her forehead. "I can't believe this."

"As you may know, when women are in a delicate situation, they can become quite emotional."

"Thank you for the prenatal lesson, Josh" she said bitterly.

"The thing is, Dee Dee's feeling very insecure and it's making her a bit clingy."

"What is your point?"

"She wants me to sit with her at the banquet tonight. That's why I had to tell you right away. I would, of course, have said no. I want to support you. This is a big night for you and for our firm, but she's carrying my child." He paused for a moment, and she could tell he was savoring the phrase. His narrow chest swelled a little. "I have to think of my family."

"So, you're dumping me. Just like that. Right before the biggest night of my life."

He smiled at her, obviously relieved to have the burden of his confession of his chest and no hysterics to wade through. "Your strong, Cams. You don't need me that way Dee Dee does."

He walked to the door and opened it, then glanced back. "Good luck tonight." He sounded as though he really meant it.

After the door shut behind her ex-fiancée, Cammie stood there feeling frozen and numb. Bits of thought and phrases were jumbled up in her head. _Not exciting enough. Pregnant. I need more._

And through it all flickered the humiliating knowledge that this relationship had gone on for months under her nose and she'd never noticed. She had the sick feeling that she was the only one in the office who hadn't

This was supposed to be the night of her greatest triumphs, no her greatest humiliation. If only she could think more clearly.

She stood there in her new underwear and slowly tugged the engagement ring off her finger and regarded the diamond solitaire. Like her dreams, it was modest.

She ought to return it to Josh, but her was just thrifty enough that he might offer the ring to Dee Dee. She put the ring on her dresser where it made a tiny click. She'd leave it as a tip for the maid. Having decided the ring's future to her satisfaction, she glanced at her clock to discovered with the horror that the banquet was starting in fifteen minutes. Luckily she was ready. No, wait, she wasn't. Something was missing. She looked around vaguely.

Oh, of course. Her dress. The one Josh helped her pick out at Normstrom…

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><p><strong>AND THAT'S ALL FOR THIS CHAPTER NEXT UP YOU GET TO MEET THE ONE AND ONLY ZACHARY GOODE! AND WHERE HE MEETS CAMMIE! REVIEW AND I WILL HAVE THE NEXT CHAPTER UP ASAP!<strong>


	3. Chapter 2 Enter Zachary Goode

**OK HERE IT IS AS I TOLD REVIEWS I WOULD HAVE THIS CHAPTER UP BY THRUSDAY AND HERE IT IS EVEN THOUGH I WAS REALLY BUSY I DIDN'T WANT TO GET HUNTED DOWN LIKE HOW I TOLD THE REVIEWS THAT THEY HAD PERMISSION TO IF I DIDN'T HAVE IT POSTED! AND NOW ONTO THE STORY!**

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><p>Zachary Goode gave a rebel yell into the headset, knowing he'd half deafen his spotter and any of the crew who were listening.<p>

"She's sweet," he yelled, feeling the grab of the tires, the tightness of tail. He accelerated into Turn Three at the Speedway in Charlotte, pulling the wheel hard left, hanging on to control as he fought for more speed. A glance at the oversize tachometer told him the engine was cooperating.

Charlotte was his track. He always did well here. Being a North Carolina boy, it was important for him to place high in Sunday's race for a lot of reasons. Today's training run was feeling good. He was pumped; the team members were working together like magic.

The run of bad luck they'd suffered recently was about to end. He loved race week in Charlotte, culminating in the big race.

Sunday, he fully intended to take a victory lap. He owned this course, and anybody who wanted to try and take him better be ready to do serious battle.

Then he felt the speed fall away as though somebody's turned off the ignition.

"Awwww, no!" he yelled, as a multicolored blur of cars zoomed past him like a swarm of bees. It was only a practice to make sure everything was running smoothly, but it was clear that things on the Goode team weren't going smoothly at all.

After they'd towed the car into the huge garage, by the hauler that housed a second race car and all the tools and spare parts they might need, Grant Newman, his crew chief, slapped him on the back. "Probably the fuel line, Zach. We'll get it fixed for Sunday."

Zach nodded. He didn't even bother saying anything. Every one of the glum faces on the team reflected him own expression. Luck. They really needed some luck.

Preferably the good kind.

As usual, even though it was only a practice, loads of fans were out, a number of them gorgeous young women. Zach didn't quite know how young women in America had suddenly decided stock car racing was sexy, but he wasn't complaining. To Zach, they made his job a lot more interesting.

There was at least a van load of college girls crowding him now as he made his way to the garage, but he didn't mind. They had long hair and bare legs. Sure, the hair color was different, and some bared their legs with little bitty skirts, and some wore butt-hanging shorts, and unless he learned their names he'd have trouble telling them apart.

The blonde whose T-shirt read NASCAR CHICK told him her name was Tinna (I know that's not how you spell it but I had to do it), with two _Ns_.

"Where y'all from girls?" he asked as he obligingly autographed a ball cap with his number on it. Some women gave him a hard time for using terms like _girls_, but he wasn't going to stop. Political correctness was so complicated he'd pretty much given trying to figure it out. He believed to the depth of his being that women should get paid the same money for the same work as men, which they could pretty much do anything they pleased. However, he also believed it was his God-given responsibility as a man to treat women with a little special courtesy, and if a young women in a miniskirt wanted his autograph, then she might have to put up with him opening a door or pulling out her chair for her or calling her a girl.

"California," she said, all suntanned legs and long blond hair and not looking at all that offended he'd referred to her and her friends as girls.

"Long way from home."

"We came specially to see you," she said, as she'd no doubt say to any other driver she could stop.

"Are you going to win on Sunday?"

"Honey," he said, "I'm going to do my very best."

Then he posed for a photo with the bunch of them and took the next item shoved under his nose. As he signed a copy of today's newspaper, he wondered idly how many dorm rooms had his picture tacked up on the wall and shrugged.

Who could figure celebrity?

He made sure all the kids in the vicinity got an autograph, and then with a final wave and a "thanks, folks," he walked past the guards and back into the garage where his crew was already crawling over his car like ants over picnic leftovers.

"Hey, Zach," Grant Newman said. "Me and the crew are going for dinner and a couple beers tonight. You coming?"

"Can't I'm going to a wedding."

"Who do you know getting married in Charlotte?" Grant asked.

"Macey."

The older man blinked slowly "You're going to your ex-wife's wedding?"

"It's kind of a tradition. I've been to all of 'em."

He and Grant had known each other for years. His crew chief regarded him with eyes that had worked on metal chassis so long they'd taken on the color of steel. "Make sure you don't end up as the groom—again."

Macey, his ex, had gone on TV twice now claiming he and she were getting back together. Both times it had come as a big surprise to Zach. Probably a bigger surprise to the poor sap she was set to marry tonight.

"I've got it covered."

"Why do you let her get away with this stuff?"

He thought about it. "Ashlee's trying to find a way to be happy. I wasn't much of a husband, so if she wants to have some fun at my expense once in a while, who am I to blame her?"

"Zach, buddy, she wants you back."

"Not going to happen."

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><p><strong>BACK TO CAMMIE (BUT DON'T GET MADE ZACH AND CAMMIE WILL MEET SOON!)<strong>

Cammie knew her disastrous day had sunk another notch when she accidentally locked herself out of her hotel room.

In her underwear…

Unable to believe she could have been so easily bested by a fire door, she tried the knob, pushed her hip against the door, but it remained sullenly closed.

Cammie wasn't the sort of person to walk out of a door without ensuring it stayed open for her safe return. Stress and shock, she discovered, could do strange things to a person. Added to the natural stress of being dumped by her fiancée on the very day she was to receive the greatest compliment of her career was the rising panic that she'd miss her moment of glory. She hadn't come all the way to Charlotte to accept the Sharpened Pencil Award in her underwear.

Embarrassment prickled along her skin as she stood there for a moment wondering what on earth to do. She'd only steeped outside to see if her dress was back yet.

_Breathe_, she told herself, determined not to panic. She told herself, determined not to panic. She was top-to-toe ready, so the minute the dress arrived—and she found someone to let her back into her hotel room she'd grab her clutch purse and her neatly typed acceptance speech and go.

A minute ticked by. Two. The air felt over warm and she heard the faint noises of a large building, but saw no sign of her dress. There was no hotel phone on her floor. Could she slid into the stairwell and creep downstairs, then somehow gets a hotel employee's attention?

Yes, she thought. That's what she'd do. Tonight would be the culmination of her career and she couldn't be late—especially since her ex and his recently outed love would be sure to think she was moping. Her chin went up at the thought. She might have a broken heart, but she was hanging on to her pride with every ounce of willpower.

At last, the sound she'd been waiting for—the whir of the elevator and then the clunk, shhhh as it stopped at her floor. She jogged forward, anxious for clothing. Ahead of her, a room door opened and a man came out, luckily without looking her way, at the exact moment the elevator doors opened. Horror of horrors, over the man's solid shoulder she saw three of the regional managers from her company—including her own boss—step out.

Cammie didn't stop to think. In one smoother gesture—and a surprisingly quick one, thanks to the panic-driven adrenaline suddenly coursing through her veins—she stuck her hand out and caught the door the stranger had exited from before it closed. Then she slipped inside the unknown man's room.

Even as she sagged in relief, having whisked herself out of sight before the trio of managers saw her, she knew what she was doing was wrong. Thankfully, this room door didn't seem to be as efficiently quick at slamming behind a person as her own, but that was no excuse for trespassing. Still, she only wanted to use his phone to call down to the front desk and get someone to track down her dress and another room key. And this time she wasn't giving up until she was certain her request had been understood.

She walked down the short hallway past the bathroom and closet into the main part of the room, idly noting a black case on a luggage stand and a pair of dirty socks on the floor. She averted her eyes as though that would minimize her rude intrusion into another guest's space.

Perhaps she should write the stranger a polite note explaining her behavior…

Or would it, in fact, show better manners if she—

Her etiquette dilemma ended when she got to the main room and found a man there. It had never occurred to her that there could be someone else inside. Before she would open her mouth to apologize, he glanced at her and said, "You're late. I'd about given up on you."

Cammie blinked stupidly as she looked up at a man who seemed vaguely familiar. Not another actuary. Something about his air of danger told her he didn't calculate ricks for a living. He was only a couple of inches taller than she was in her heels, but muscled and hard-bodied. There was a scar on his cheek that seemed unnecessarily large—as though it was showing off what a tough guy he was.

"I'm so, so sorry," she stammered. "I would never normally enter someone else's hotel room—"

"No problem. I'm glad Grant let you in. I was waiting for you. Come on, let's go." He looked her up and down in a way that suddenly reminded her she was still in her underwear. "Nice dress."

"It's a slip."

"Never could get the hang of ladies' fashion terms. Looks good on you. Sexy." He picked up a light grey suit jacket and pulled it on over matching slacks and a crisp white shirt, which clearly suggested somebody in this hotel got their clothes pressed in a timely manner. He wore no tie, but his black shoes shone.

Sexy? He thought she looked sexy? Some of her embarrassment at being caught in a slip faded. Okay, quite a bit.

He walked up to her and put an arm around her shoulder, turning her towards the door. At his touch she experienced the strangest sense of weakness. He had the kind of energy that could carry a person with it, whether she wanted to go or not.

When they got to the door, she realized she had to stop him or she's be back where she started—out in the corridor with no clothes. She turned. "Um, just a second."

He reached around her for the door handle. The door at her back and Mr. Muscle in front was the absolute definition of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. His jacket just brushed her arm and as he looked down at her she noted his eyes were a deep emerald green with brown-and-gold flecks. "What's your name?"

"Cameron Morgan," she said and foolishly stuck out her hand.

"Cameron. Do you go by C? C.M.? Camster?" He spoke with the syrupy drawl that suggested he was from around these parts.

She shuddered. "I most certainly do not. It's Cammie. Not C, C.M., Camester?" She said shaking her head.

Solemnly, he shook her hand.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance." He didn't say ma'am, but the accent implied it. "You seem a little uptight there Cammie. Everything all right?" The way he said her name, it sounded like Ken Doll.

"If I could use your phone?"

"No time. You can phone from my car. Come on."

"Your car?" She put a hand to her head, partly to see if it was still attached to her body. Too much had happened today. The tug of familiarity when she looked at him didn't help. "Who are you?" she finally asked.

Amusement flickered in his eyes, fascinating her. "I thought Jonas was going to fill you in. My name's Zachary. My friends call me Zach."

And thunk, it all fell into place like three cherries in a slot machine, although of course she'd never played a slot machine. You didn't have to be an actuary to figure out that the odds were stacked against the player.

That's why he'd seemed familiar. Zachary Goode was a NASCAR driver. And not just any driver. He'd caused the kind of sensation even a non sports buff like Cammie had noticed. "You're ranked fifteenth so far this season." It wasn't that she followed sports, but rankings and number systems of every kind appealed to her and sort of stuck in her brain. There were a lot of numbers stuck in there.

"Wait till Sunday, honey. All that will change. This speedway's my track." She felt his intensity like an engine revving. "Jonas said you were a fan."

"Jonas said that?" Whoever Jonas was.

"Sure. I promise tonight won't be too boring. We'll have dinner, make nice, and be on our way. We can catch up to Jonas after if you like."

She felt as if she were in a dream; everything was a little misty around the edges and didn't make any sense. "This is a date?"

His smile crinkled at the corners of his eyes and made that scar turn from a wobbly _L_ to a _C._ "You're right. It's not a date, exactly, more an acting job. I sure do appreciate you being able to make it."

She'd always thought Southern men had more than their fair share of charm, but this guy was in a league all his own.

NASCAR driver, Actuary of the Year, acting job. It wasn't adding up.

"Can you handle it?" This man regarded her from those emerald-green eyes as though she weren't the brightest spark. How extraordinary. She supposed he had ample reason to doubt her intelligence, given that she'd stumbled into his room half dressed and seemed to echo every statement he made. For a few luscious moments, she was experiencing what it might feel like to be a silly women. Not silly, she reminded herself. Sexy.

The kind of women a virile and exciting man like this might look at twice. He stared right into her eyes a moment longer and she took that as a good excuse to stare back. Rough, tough and gorgeous. His hair was a tumble of dark brown with the kind of streaky gold that suggested he spent time in the sun. His skin was weathered the mouth uncompromising, the jaw cleft. And the scar fascinated her.

"I don't want to be rude, but do you really need Jonas to find you dinner dates?" The guy was great-looking, successful, rich. He didn't look like the sort of man to need help getting female companionship.

He scratched a spot behind his ear. "Bryce was supposed to explain all of this. I need an actress. You just hang all over me, pretend we're crazy in love. For a couple of hours at this wedding we're going to, I want people thinking I have a girlfriend. That's all."

"I'm to appear as your girlfriend without actually being one?"

"That's right. Can you handle it?"

She laughed at the bitter irony of her situation. "Oh, yes. I've had practice."

He glanced at a watch that looked designed for a scuba diver rather than a race car driver. "We'd better get going."

Now much of an explanation, but she really didn't have time to get into this guy's relationships with women.

Now was the time to tell him that Jonas hadn't sent her, she was wearing a black silk slip from Victoria's Secret and that no one was ever going to mistake her for a NASCAR driver's girlfriend.

She was the kind of women that the man she'd been dating for two years dumped on a business trip so he could sit on a business trip so he could sit at the actuary banquet with his pregnant girlfriend or fiancée or whatever.

And suddenly the thought of slogging through dinner alone, while Josh and Dee Dee canoodled in some dark corner, was simply too pathetic. Cammie had a secret romantic streak. She gobbled up novels and subscribed to a couple of movie channels including an oldies station. She loved the moment especially in old films, where the enraged heroine slapped the out-of-line guy, where she stood up and said, _"Nobody treats me this way." _

Maybe all that reading and viewing hadn't been a waste of her time, as she'd sometimes thought. Maybe it was training for her moment to stand up and slap Josh—metaphorically, of course.

A thought struck, so utterly blinding in its brilliance and daring that her heart jumped unpleasantly.

The NASCAR driver standing in front of her at this very minute believed she could pass as his girlfriend. Why on earth couldn't she see what that would be like?

On the heels of that thought came another, even more scintillating.

What if she showed up at her banquet with this walking shrine to testosterone? This man, she suddenly recalled, who'd been featured in _People_'s 50 Hottest Bachelors issue. Wouldn't that show Josh—and everyone? Not exciting enough, huh?

* * *

><p><strong>AND THERE IT IS 3,093 WORDS REVIEW PLEASE AND I'LL HAVE THE NEXT CHAPTER UP BY NEXT FRIDAY OR THURSDAY! AND THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE ABOUT ZACH'S EX'S WEDDING! <strong>


	4. Chapter 3 Wedding Part 1

**HOLA GUYS AS I PROMISED I WOULD POST THIS BY THURSDAY AND I DID! I AM SO PROUD AND WELL THIS STORY IS EASY FOR ME TO WRITE SINCE I HAVE IT ALL PLANNED OUT!**

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><p><strong>CAMMIE'S POV<strong>

What if she talked Zach Goode into dropping by her awards dinner? The voice of reason that had stopped her from doing anything crazy, or even remotely interesting, for the twenty-one years of her life, said in a snide, evil- stepmother voice in her ear, "In your unmentionables?"

She ignored the little snide voice. Not giving herself time to think this through, since, if she did, she'd do the sensible thing, she said, "I have an event myself I need to attend here in the hotel later on. Could we be back here by, say, ten?"

She was scheduled to receive her award after the dinner and speeches. The agenda said ten-fifteen, and based on her knowledge of previous awards dinners, the award would be presented precisely at the time indicated.

"Sure. It gives us an excuse to leave. What's your shindig?"

"I'm receiving an award" Cammie said, not without pride.

"Cool. An acting award?"

She ought to get one for this performance. She did her best to look enigmatic. "I'll explain later."

What was she doing? she asked herself again as they walked down the hall toward the elevator. There was no answer forthcoming. All she knew was that she liked the feeling that she could pass for the date of the Sexiest NASCAR Driver Alive. She felt his energy and laugh-in-the-face-of-danger personality besides her. That personality was so big and so strong she felt it spilling over and imbuing her with craziness. She had no purse, no room key, nothing. Not so much as a tissue. She'd never done anything this wild in her life. Oh it felt good.

The elevator doors opened on a couple kissing so passionately the mirrored walls had steamed up. The man had pale brown hair and wore a suit. The women wore something black and low cut in the back. Even before the man lifted his head, Cammie was tugging Zach's big hand and turning for the stairs. She recognized that suit. She'd been with Josh when he bought it in the January sales last year.

"Let's give them some privacy," she said in a low voice as she tugged.

"Cammie?" Josh sounded like a man who couldn't believe his eyes. Jerk.

"You know that guy?" Zach asked as the fire door shut them into the stairwell.

"No," she said. It was true. She'd never known Josh, not all the time she'd dated him, helped him get ahead in the company. He's seemed as dull as she was which made him a safe risk. Or so she'd thought. As it had turned out, he was a bad risk, one she'd have to write off. As though her life were an insurance policy.

Her heels clicked defiantly as she ran down the stairs, echoing like hail while Zach's heavier tread sounded like a drum.

By the time they'd clicked an drummed their way past the reception floor, she had to admit she had completely lost her mind. She wasn't getting off to go and pick up her dress and her room key, and she wasn't going to the awards banquet to sit meekly with the other onesies.

She was blowing off the banquet.

Predictable and safe hadn't worked out so well.

She wondered what wild would feel like.

She had a feeling she was about to find out…

* * *

><p><strong>BACK TO ZACHY'S HEAD!<strong>

Zach was surprised at the women Jonas had set him up with. Jonas's female friends were fairly predictable type. Gorgeous, friendly, long-legged and big-bosomed. This one was different.

Sure, she was sexy in a quirky-looking way. Generous mouth, straight nose, pretty gray eyes. Medium-brown hair that curled softly round her shoulders. Nice, trim body. Not much shape, but then he'd never known an actress who didn't diet off her curves.

Oh, well. All she had to do was act happy to be in his company for a couple of hours, then they'd be on their way. How hard was that?

Truth was, it was a lot tougher than he'd thought being named one of _People_ magazine's 50 Hottest Bachelors. That had been great for publicity, and he sure sold a lot of junk with his picture on it. He also signed a lot of autographs to girls who looked as though they should be home studying for their algebra test and not at a racetrack hyperventilating over guys who made a life's work out of driving too fast.

A lot of drivers took their wives and girlfriends around the racing circuit with them. Zach had never done that. He'd come up in racing right when it suddenly became a sexy sport. His marketing guy liked him to have a different girl on his arm at every track. It was part of his "brand," whatever that meant. His marketers wanted to portray Zach as a fun guy who loved women. Zach had no problem with that. He _was_ a fun guy who loved women.

He met some great gals: cheerleaders, actresses, models, party girls. They got publicity from being seen with him and he got the sexy rep without any effort on his part. Seemed to him that everybody went home happy.

For tonight, however, he needed something more. Anyone who'd already been seen with him on TV or mentioned on one of the fan sites wasn't going to cut it. Macey would know the relationship was casual. And he needed her to believe, for both their sakes that he was in love. He hoped Cammie was a hell of an actress, because they were appearing before a tough audience.

* * *

><p><strong>NOW BACK TO CAMMIE<strong>

Cammie had her first major pang of regret when she saw the car.

Low-slung, red and topless. The man was a race car driver—he was bound to go over the speed limit, and excessive speed accounted for a high percentage of motor-vehicle accidents.

She paused. In the fluorescent lighting bouncing off gray pavement, that red car looked like blood in the desert. She scented danger.

She halted. There was still time to go back.

_You're not exciting enough._ Josh's words floated into her head as though he was standing beside her repeating his obviously rehearsed goodbye speech.

Not exciting enough, huh? She's show him exciting.

Zach unlocked her door and opened it and she slid into the car as though she rode in sports cars every day of her life instead of her four-year-old Volvo.

The engine roared to life in an aggressively loud fashion, and she wasn't pleased to note that Zach pulled out of the parking space before she'd found her seat belt and click it into place.

The car purred as he steered out of the parking garage, but it was a menacing purr, as if to say, "Just you wait until I'm out on the road, baby, and then you'll know fear."

They pulled out of the garage and she swallowed a cry as he merged into heavy traffic with hardly a glance. She'd never realized a topless car would be so noisy. And what it was doing to her careful hairdo she didn't even want to think about.

"So," he yelled over the wind rushing through the convertible, "I know you're am actress and you're here in town shooting a commercial, but where are you from?"

"Chaska."

"How long are you in town for?

Three days, I leave tomorrow." And then she'd be back to her regularly scheduled life, in the job she's done now for three years, the apartment that she'd be deJoshizing when she got home. When she thought about it, there wasn't even much of Marvin there. An extra toothbrush and razor, the shampoo for thinning hair, a couple pairs of socks and underwear. An asthma puffer. So little. Some fiancée. Had there been signs all along that she was temporary and she'd simply ignored them?

They turned onto a freeway and her date hit the accelerator. The noise increased; wind rushed at her so fast she felt breathless. Her hair whipped across her face.

There wasn't much more conversation; it was too difficult to be heard. Besides, she was busy holding on to her hair so she didn't end up with lacerations on her face. She tried not to calculate their speed and turned her mind instead to cataloging ways she might fool people that she was: a) an actress; b) sexy and c) wearing actual clothes.

The sun was low, heavy ball of dark orange. Zach had slipped on dark sunglasses, but she, of course, had none. Between driving into the sun and the air whooshing at her, her eyes began to water.

They drove maybe half an hour and then they drew up at a big, old mansion decked with twinkle lights. Jay Gatsby would have felt right at home. Perhaps, as her first effort as an actress, she should channel Daisy.

Zach roared toward the front of the house, and a white-coated valet immediately came forward to open the car door. She steeped gratefully onto the solid ground, resisting the urge to drop to her knees and kiss the pavement. She put a hand to her hair to try and smooth it. The young man parking cars seemed more interested in her chest than in her hair, however, and when Zach walked about to join her, leaving the car running, she noticed his gaze headed in the same direction. She glanced down.

The cold , rushing air hadn't merely unhinged her hair and made her eyes tear. She didn't know whether to put her hands to her hair or her chest, or simply to dive back in the car and refuse to come out.

Before she'd made up her mind, her attention—everyone's attention—was caught by a sylphlike young women in a long, white off-the-shoulder dress, who cried "Zach!" and ran down the stone steps as though a murderer were after her, She carried a bouquet of flowers in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other, and there was a coronet of tiny roses in her bright black-blue hair.

Cammie saw that her eyes were large, her lips pouty in a way that would have looked sullen on Cammie but looked sexy on this woman. She had a lost-child look about her, combined with a blatant sexuality. In fact, Cammie didn't have a hope of channeling Daisy. This woman had the channel all to herself as she threw he arms around Zach and clung like a climbing rose to a garden stake.

"Hey, Macey," Zach said in a voice that was soft and comforting, "it's good to see you." He ran a large hand up and down the women's delicate spine. "You got some great weather for the big day," he said in an overly loud voice.

The bride shook her head so violently that her curls bounced and one pink rosette slid from its crown. "I can't go through with it. I'm making a terrible mistake. I never should have left you. Never. My astrologer said I'd end up with a man from my past. You've got to stop the wedding so we can get back together."

Cammie felt as though she'd been kicked somewhere in the region of her belly button. He'd brought her as a date to his ex's wedding? Was she forever going to be the one standing on the sidewalk of life while the parade passed her by? _She _wanted drama and astrologers and a man like Zach letting her cling like super strength sandwich wrap.

Instead, she felt exactly like what she was: a half-dressed actuary at the wrong party.

Mentally calculating how long it would take her to get back to the hotel in a taxi, she idly watched as Zach patted Daisy (Macey, that's Cam's nickname for her) with one hand and managed to pinch her cigarette out of her fingers with the other. "And it broke my heart into a million pieces when you did leave me. But Preston's a fine man. He can give you all the things I never could. You know that."

"No." Another rosebud tumbled as the curls were tossed again. "No. I know it was you she meant. I know it. Let's get back together again." She glanced up with misty eyes.

Over the black-blue head, Zach stared at Cammie and opened his eyes wide in a do-something plea. She'd been frozen in place by the spectacle—as had all the parking valets and a couple of guys in aprons who looked like catering staff on a smoke break.

Zach wanted to be rescued from this lovely woman? By her? She felt better by the second.

Right, she reminded herself. Actress. Sexy. Pretend she and Dylan were in love. Well, if she wanted to take part in life's drama, it looked as if it was a perfect opportunity to step onstage.

She barely knew what she was doing when she licked her lips, thrust her hips forward and walked—no, strutted—forward into the fray.

Daisy didn't notice her. All her attention seemed to be given over to clinging to Zach.

The parking attendant's attention was all hers, though, or her still-chilled chests. "You might want to park that car before it runs out of gas," she said in a throaty voice she barely recognized.

A reflex apology for her curtness popped into her mouth like a hiccup when she realized that the parking attendant had blushed to the roots of his red hair and was jogging to the sports car. Emboldened, she turned to do her best to free Zach.

She'd succeeded in getting Daisy's attention. She had Zach's attention, too. He still patted Daisy, but his gaze was fully on Cammie. She wasn't sure what to do next but she'd agreed to come with him and play her part and she was a woman who stood by her word.

"Who is this?" Daisy asked sharply, sounding a lot less fragile.

"This is Cammie, my—"

"Lover," Cammie said—or her inner vamp did, and she just mouthed the word. "And if you'd take your hands off Zach, I'd appreciate it."

"This is your new girlfriend?" Daisy stared at Zach as though she could not believe it.

"I'm crazy about it." he said, sending Cammie a glance so warm she tingled all over. For a second, she felt the thrill of those words run through her system. No man had every said that about her, and even though she knew Zach was pretending, she still felt as though she'd become someone new and sexy and powerful.

"But she's so…slutty."

Cammie blinked. In high school, she'd been voted least likely to go skinny dipping. Now she was being called slutty? The sensible part of her knew she should be insulted, but her inner rebel, who's never before appeared to exist, cheered.

"Macey, I am crazy in love with this woman. I want you to be happy for us. Like I'm happy for you and Preston." There it was again. Not only crazy, but crazy in love. She wasn't the only one who seemed to having a hidden acting talent. Mr. Zach Life-In-The-Fast-Lane Goode wasn't bad in the acting department himself. When he looked at her with sizzle in his gaze, she felt as though he could not wait to get her alone. When he looked at her like that, she saw how easy it would be to respond.

With incredible dexterity he somehow unwound himself from the clinging bride and took Cammie's hand in his. His palm felt warm and large. Nice. He squeezed her hand in what she knew gratitude. "Cammie's an important woman in my life so I want you to behave."

"Hi," Macey said, then glanced up under her lashes at Zach and gave that sexy pout again. "Sorry I said you were slutty."

"Hi," Cammie replied. "Sorry I thought you were a bitch."

Zach made a choking sound and quickly faked a cough. Then he spoke to Ashlee. "Now let's get you married."

Cammie could not imagine who was going to marry this woman who was so blatantly throwing herself at another man, but she'd already realized that the rules of Zach's world were vastly different from her own. Then she thought about Josh and realized that wasn't true at all.

Macey looked as though she was going to argue or, worse, cling some more, when thankfully another car drove down the avenue toward them. The bride-to-be squeaked and ran for a side entrance to the mansion.

She stopped halfway, turned to Cammie and yelled, "I'm Zach's first wife. You know the first marriage is the only true one."

Zach held on to Cammie's hand as they walked up the stone steps to an imposing oak doorway. "Thanks for that. You're a better actress than I guessed."

"Better than I would have guessed, too," she admitted. None of this was her business but she had to ask, "Will there be many more scenes like that?

"I hope not, he said and she was sure she felt him shudder.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to attend your ex-wife's wedding?"

"It would hurt her feelings if I didn't show. Besides, me coming to her weddings is kind of a tradition."

"Weddings?"

"This is number four."

Zach kept hold of her hand as they ascended the main staircase leading to the house. To an onlooker it would have appeared they were inseparable, but Cammie suspected he was afraid she'd bolt if he didn't hang on tight.

He needn't have worried. She was enjoying more excitement tonight than she'd experienced in her entire life. She wasn't going to miss this crazy wedding for anything. Her gorgeous, sexy date didn't, however, have to know that.

* * *

><p><strong>AND SCENE. THE REST OF THE WEDDING WILL BE POSTED BY NEXT THURSDAY OR FRIDAY BECAUSE I HAVE SOME STUFF I HAVE TO DO AT SCHOOL BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS AGAIN. REVIEW! IT MAKES ME HAPPY! AND WELL THAT'S ABOUT IT BE READY FOR AN INTERESTING WEDDING, LIKE CAMMIE SAID YOU DON'T WANT TO MISS THIS CRAZY WEDDING!<strong>


	5. Chapter 4 Wedding Part 2

**HEY GUYS IT'S KRISTINA AND WELL I JUST GOT NOTICED THAT I KEEP PUTTING THESE NAMES THAT AREN'T PEOPLE IN THE STORY WELL HERE IS WHAT I REALLY MEANT~**

**WHEN I SAY THESE NAMES IT IS BY ACCIDENT IT'S BECAUSE I WRITE SO LATE AT NIGHT AND WHEN I READ THROUGH I DON'T NOTICE THE MISTAKES AND WELL YEAH HERE IS A 'KEY' ON THE NAMES AND WHAT I MEAN**

**ASHLEY/ASHLEE-MACEY**

**MARVIN-JOSH**

**DYLAN-ZACH**

**MIKE (I THINK) - GRANT**

**AND THAT'S ABOUT ALL I CAN THINK OF IF YOU GUYS SEE ANYMORE JUST TELL ME, NOW ONTO THE STORY! OH AND DISCLAIMER!**

**I SADLY DO NOT OWN THE GALLAGHER ACADEMY SERIES *TEAR***

* * *

><p>"You didn't mention that our date was to your ex-wife's wedding," she said sweetly.<p>

"Huh. Must have slipped my mind."

They walked into a blaze of light and noise, a string quarter almost drowned out by the chatter and laughter of a great number of well-dressed people. The mansion reminded Cammie of the Biltmore Estate she'd visited near Asheville. This mansion had the same feeling of Gilded Age glamour, and although not quite so over-the-top, was still pretty amazing with its art deco architecture and old-world interior decorating style. She'd only gotten into the Biltmore as a paying tourist. To be in a Gilded Age mansion as a guest—however bogus—was quite a thrill. She was again reminded of Gatsby as she glanced around, drinking in the atmosphere. Of course, Fitzgerald had lived in the area. Perhaps he'd visited this very house.

A woman spotted them immediately and came forward. She was an older, faded version of Macey, wearing a soft pink suit and a corsage of orchids. "Why, Zach," she cried, holding out arms that didn't just drip diamonds; it was more like a waterfall. "We'd almost given up on you and you know Macey planned her wedding around the NASCAR schedule so you could be here!"

_Good move, Macey._

Cammie didn't think she was ready to face the mother of the bride. She hadn't yet recovered from meeting the bride. She mumbled something about the washroom in the general direction of Zach's ear, and stepped away as his ex-mother-in-law enveloped him in a hug that looked mildly abusive.

The washroom was a grand affair, of course, with black-and-white tile, marble walls, crystal chandeliers and acres of mirrors. The sight of her reflection made her cry out in distress. Her first ride in a convertible and she'd learned a valuable lesson. Never travel with a hair net. Her hair was so big, windblown and hopelessly tangled. Any of her makeup that hadn't been whipped off by her hair flying around her face at far too many miles an hour had smudged, run and spread so she looked like a rocker chick who'd gone a few rounds with a tornado.

Never mind she was prancing around at a society wedding in her underwear, her carefully styled hair and makeup were a mess and she had not so much as a clutch purse with her. No comb. No makeup. Nothing…

Fortunately, the washroom was equipped with wonderful Deco jar of stuff, so she sat on the blue velvet bench in front of a marble vanity and reached for a silver-blacked brush, refusing to even think about how unsanitary it was to use a hairbrush of unknown provenance, age or cleanliness. This was an emergency.

Redoing her softly curled style was out of the question, but once she'd brushed it out, her hair had a certain wavy wildness that could be considered deliberate. Pinching off a single tiny orchid from the gorgeously blooming plant in a black-and-white pot, she tucked the creamy bloom behind her ear.

With a dampened tissue she managed to reduce her convertible-induced raccoon shadow she hoped appeared intentional. Then, with a deep breath and a sense of fatality, she left the washroom.

Her few moments alone had given her the opportunity to realize that she'd gone temporarily insane. There was no other possibility. Josh's announcement—that triple whammy of 1) I'm dumping you; 2) for a colleague and 3) she's pregnant—had pretty much tossed Cammie into unexplored mental territory.

However, she wasn't quite ready to head back to her usual rational state. For one night, she was going to enjoy a small vacation from her usual self. Appearing for one night only Cammie Morgan, actress and girlfriend of one of NASCAR's sexiest drivers.

She was determined to enjoy every minute.

* * *

><p>Zach was, by this time, in a deep conversation with an older man. He must have kept an eye out for her, for when she reached his side he didn't even turn, merely out an arm around her and pull her close.<p>

Mmm. His chest was so broad and warm. She sensed the power and strength of his athlete's build. Really, not much acting was requited for her to lean into his embrace and gaze up at him as though he was the most exciting man she'd ever met.

"James," he said, sending her a shadow of a wink that only she could see. "I'd like to introduce my girlfriend, Cammie. James is Macey's father."

"It's a pleasure to meet any friend of Zach's," James said. He was a dapper man who looked to be in his mid forties. He was balding, with salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. Macey may have thought Cammie looked slutty, but her father saw nothing amiss. His eyes twinkled when he looked at her. "A pleasure indeed." She felt Zach's arm tighten around her.

She smiled at Macey's father and shook his hand, which he held on to a little longer than necessary.

Macey's mother came out and said to her husband, "Now, don't monopolize Zach. Our other guests want to say hello." Then she stood there and engaged her daughter's ex in conversation herself, leaving Cammie stuck with the husband, who moved a step closer.

"What a lovely dress," he said, doing his best to look down the front of it.

"Thank you."

"I do like these skimpy fashions you young women choose."

"A recent study of media photos revealed that female stars bare approximately fifty-nine percent of their bodies today in public appearances as compared to a mere seven percent in the 1970s." She sighed. "No wonder the fitness craze keeps getting crazier."

The older man blinked. "What is it that you do, my dear?"

Oops. Shut up with the statistics, she reminded herself. "I'm an actress." More seemed to be required so she added, "Shooting a body wash commercial."

"You know, I've always been interested in how they make commercials. I'd love to come by and watch you work."

"Oh, I don't think that would be allowed," she said as brightly as she could.

He chuckled softly. "I've got a lot of connections. Which company's shooting? I tell you what I'll do. I'll come watch you work and then I'll take you for lunch at my club. I'm sure you'd enjoy it. The chef's famous. He has a way with steak that no one can duplicate."

As an actuary, she dealt with a lot of older men and she had her own method of dealing with the overfriendly.

"That's very kind of you," she said with a smile, "but I shouldn't encourage you to eat red meat. You know that a man your age who eats large amounts of red meat has a sixty-four percent greater chance of developing heart disease that a similarly aged vegetarian. Of course, you're increasing the risk of type two diabetes by fifty percent." He gaped at her and she went in for the kill. "And don't even get me started on the stats for prostate cancer and colon blockages."

He paled and the smirk left his face.

She patted his arm. "I wouldn't want to put you at risk."

"Right. Um, yes, of course. Well." He stared at his drink, and then put it down on a nearby table. "I'd better see how…everything's progressing. Cynthia?" he said sharply to his wife. "Come along."

She glanced up to find Zach looking at her in a quizzical way. "That was one of the most colorful brush-offs I've ever been privileged to witness," he said drawled. "How'd you know all that stuff?"

Darn, she'd hoped he hadn't heard.

She shrugged. "_Scientific American _was all they had in the green room."

He glanced at her curiously. A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne and she took one, sipping deeply. Dutch courage, her mother would call it. She'd take courage of any nationality right now.

"Your beer, Mr. Goode," the waiter said. Zach studied the bottle of beer, nodded and waved the empty glass provided.

"Thanks."

"You don't like champagne" How could anyone not like champagne?

"It's okay, but my contract states that the only alcohol I can drink is my sponsor's beer."

"Isn't that a little restrictive?"

He shrugged. "They don't put their money behind any other drivers and I don't drink anybody else's booze. Works for me."

Zach might have said more, but he was soon surrounded by people. He didn't seem too surprised; she guessed he was the most famous person in the room and probably being used to being approached. People checked her out the way she imagined they eyeballed his race cars, wondering if she was up to his speed, pretty enough, sleek enough.

She was a Dinky Toy compared to his usual cars.

What was she even doing here? It was unlike her not to act sensible.

Then Zach looked at her with a slight grin, and the scar crinkled so much she wanted to reach out and run her fingertip over the puckered curve. He was the kind of man a women like her could only worship from afar. Now, for tonight, she belonged by his side.

Forget sensible.

* * *

><p>Cammie discovered that when you acted as though you were interesting and fun and sexy, a lot of people went along with the charade.<p>

Of course, being with Zach pretty much guaranteed that people were going to form a different impression of her that they would if they saw her in her office in one of her Talbots suits.

And, strangely enough, the same phenomenon worked backward. The more that people treated her as though she were interesting, fun and born to party, the more of a fun party girl she became.

Wedding guest came up and talked to her, they told her jokes that made her laugh and she said things to make them laugh in return. Okay, they were all men talking to her, but that was all right. Her flirting skills were rusty—if she'd ever had any. It was nice to give them a workout.

Weather her newfound popularity with the opposite sex was because she was here with a NASCAR driver, barely dressed or had suddenly sprouted a sparking personality, she didn't know or care. She was Cinderella at the ball with Prince Charming. Naturally, midnight would come and she'd soon be back to her regular unexciting life, with no glass slipper left behind to change her destiny. So what? For once she was following a mad impulse and to heck with consequences. Not exciting enough, huh? How she wished Josh could see her now.

Zach came and took her arm, and since he was by far the most interesting man at the wedding she dreamed at him. "Isn't this a wonderful party?" she said. It was amazing. She could say the stupidest things and people that she was a witty conversationalist.

"It's a nightmare," he said, not appearing to find her conversation all that witty. Immediately, the truth slapped her, and she in turn slapped a hand over her big mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. This must be torture watching your ex-wife get married." And Daisy/Macey was exactly the sort of woman for whom a man would carry an eternal flame.

He glared at her in annoyance. "She won't get married if she doesn't believe you and I are crazy in love. So would you stop drooling on everything in pants and start drooling on me?"

Her mind was feeling a little hazy. It was thirsty work. All this flirting and she was wondering if she might be one flute short of an orchestra. Or maybe that should be one flute too many. She'd stick with water at dinner, she decided. In the meantime she tried to work out what Zach meant. "I don't understand what's going on. Are you still in love with her?"

"No!" He pulled her aside and in a low voice said, "This guy's her fourth groom. She went to some astrologer who I would personally love to strangle. This quack told her that she'd already met the love of her love but she threw him away. She got it into her head that, that man was me."

She'd seen Zach and Macey together. Both were gorgeous, larger than life. They were Clark Gable and Carole Lombard.

"Maybe the astrologer was right."

He shook his head. "Our marriage was a disaster."

"Still, you've never married again."

"I'm smarter now." He glanced behind Cammie and his eyes narrowed. "Uh-oh, here she comes. If I know that look, and I do, she's planning something crazy. Like not getting married so she can run off with me. Remember, this is your fault."

As she opened her mouth to ask what exactly was her fault, he kissed her.

Oh my…

* * *

><p><strong>AND I KNOW YOU GUYS WANT TO KILL ME BUT DON'T WORRY IF I GET 10 REVIEWS OR MORE I WILL UPDATE ASAP!<strong>

**WELL THAT'S ALL GUYS IT'S 12 IN THE MORNING AND I KNEW I JUST HAD TO FINISH THE CHAPTER I WANT AT LEAST 10 REVIEWS BEFORE I UPDATE AGAIN I HAVE A BUSY WEEK AHEAD OF ME SO MIGHT NOT UPDATE FOR A WHILE BUT WHEN I DO I WANT TO HAVE AT LEAST 10 MORE REVIEWS! OH AND THE LAST PART OF THE WEDDING WILL BE THE NEXT CHAPTER! AND I KNOW THIS WEDDING IS LONG BUT EH ITS WORTH IT!  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 5 Banquet!

**HEY GUYS HERE IT CHAPTER 5 AS I PROMISED AND AS YOU NOTICED THE PREVIEW TO THE CHAPTER IS GONE BECAUSE I DELETED IT! SO YEAHH ENJOY THE CHAPTER!**

**OH AND THE DISCLAIMERS-**

**ZACH- YOU CAN'T MAKE ME DO THIS!**

**ME- YES I CAN, I OWN YOU!**

**CAMMIE- NO YOU DON'T ZACH JUST SAY IT SO WE CAN GET THIS OVER WITH**

**ZACH- *GETTING ATTACKED BY MACEY* **

**CAMMIE- *SIGHS AND GOES TO HELP HIM***

**BEX- *POPS OUT OF NO WHERE***

**ME- WHY ARE YOU HERE YOU AREN'T EVEN IN THIS STORY TILL LATER ON!**

**BEX- WELL I JUST HAD TO SAY THAT KRISTINA DOES NOT OWN THE GALLAGER ACADEMY SERIES**

* * *

><p><strong>ME- FINALLY NOW ONTO THE STORY! SORRY FOR THIS LONG DISCLAIMER. OH AND I WANTED TO EXPLAIN WHY THE LATE WELL VERY LATE UPDATE IT WAS BECAUSE WELL I HADHAVE A BRUISED RIB. I GOT IT FROM PLAYING ONE OF MY SPORTS THIS SUMMER…AND WELL WHEN IT HEALED UP I WAS SO READY TO WRITE WHEN I GOT ANOTHER BRUISED RIB FROM AFTER SCHOOL SPORTS. SO IT WILL BE HARD FOR ME TO UPDATE ON TIME NOW AND SCHOOL JUST STARTED SOO YEAH… BUT I HOPE YOU ALL STICK WITH ME!**

* * *

><p>Better than champagne was the first thought that skittered through her head. His arms came around her and pulled her in so tight she was pressed against the full length of him. Oh. Yum. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.<p>

He was sexy and strong, and in that second she could imagine a woman loving this man and never wanting to let him go. Then Macey/Daisy fled her mind as he kept on kissing her. He tasted good, felt good. Her arms went around his neck and she molded her body to his. With nothing between them but her slip, a demi bra and a pair of panties, she felt the roughness of his jacket, the buttons on his shirt, the warmth of his skin.

A soft moan startled Cammie back to reality. For a humiliating moment she thought she'd done the moaned, but when Zach raised his head and looked behind her, she turned and followed his gaze. It wasn't Cammie who'd moaned, but Macey.

The bride was staring at Zach with a baffled mixture of longing and sadness. "I remember when you used to kiss me like that," she said.

"That was a while ago," he said, but in a gentle way. He kept his arm around Cammie and rubber her arm, up and down, while he said it.

"I just want to be happy," Macey said, her big blue eyes looking misty. Cammie wondered if she'd ever heard anything so wretched. If the woman was wondering about her happiness on her wedding day, then it didn't bode well that she'd found it.

Since this didn't seem to be one of those weddings where it was deemed bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony, Cammie soon had a chance to judge the upcoming union for herself.

A self-important young man strolled up and Cammie was reminded again of Gatsby. This guy was a modern-day version. She couldn't have said why she thought he was from new money until she looked more closely. His tux was too obviously expensive. His shoes too shiny. When he took Macey's hand, he held it in such a way that an extraordinarily large diamond engagement rings winked at them, catching the light and flashing like a camera bulb going off.

Macey smiled at her fiancée, but then turned her attention back to Zach. Cammie could understand why. He was much the more dynamic of the two.

"Goode," the nouveau Gatsby said with a curt nod.

"Winters." He nodded back.

Animosity crackled between these two. No one bothered to introduce her.

"The minister's here," the groom said. "Your mother wants you to take your place."

"Okay." Macey's voice wobbled and she looked at Zach with such naked appeal the Cammie hoped someone would protest to the marriage. Preferably the groom.

"Be happy, Macey," Zach said and, stepping in front of the man she was about to marry, kissed his ex-wife on the lips.

The groom took Macey's hand and dragged her away, and she left with the same enthusiasm a child leaves Santa's knee.

"Well, you kiss her silly should cure Macey of her infatuations," Cammie said with as much sarcasm possible.

"Winters irritates me," he said, as though she might have no noticed.

"Why?"

"Preston Winters went to a big _fancy_ university and learned all about higher profits through downsizing. He'd done some hatchet jobs on other companies and was seem as a young hotshot who'd take the old factory in our hometown and make the shareholders happy. A real wunderkind. Our town was already suffering a downturn. The factory is still the main employer in town, but he's cutting jobs, so fast can keep up. It's wrong, that's all."

"Did you know each other before…?"

"Before Macey? Oh, sure. We all grew up together. That's what made it so bad that he'd come back and destroy his own home."

It was an old love triangle, then. She wondered how far it went back. "I've heard of him, of course. No one could believe the way he turned around that steel company in Pennsylvania or—"

He stared at her.

Right. Not the sort of thing most actresses would need to know. She was going to have to tell him who she really was. But not quite yet. No while that kiss was still fizzing through her system and he was displaying her to these people in the way Preston Winters had displayed Macey's diamond ring. So she shrugged.

"They stock _Barron's_ along with _Scientific American_ in the green room?" he asked.

"The wedding's about to start," she said nodding to where a stream of guest headed into the conservatory.

Cammie hated confrontation of every kind and so her stomach was one big knot when they took their places in the conservatory. The scents of gardenia and frangipani were everywhere.

Still, the conservatory was beautiful with tiny white lights in the trees and a single harpist playing by candlelight. They sat in rows of white folding chairs, on the bride's side. After an interval of shuffling, some quiet whispering and the odd giggle, the parents filed in to the front row. Then Preston Winters seemed to appear from behind a burning bush, although she imagined there was a side door behind the blooming gardenia bush that was currently imitating candelabra. With the groom was an older man, presumably the best man. The thought flashed through her mind that he didn't have any friends his own age.

The two took their places in front of a flower-decked podium while a man in a dark suit holding an engraved binder came from the other side and took his place behind the podium. When the justice of the pace had found his place in the binder and adjusted the small reading light, there was the usual anticipatory prebride silence.

Cammie waited, barely breathing, for the groom to be left standing at the altar—a fear the groom apparently shared from the anxious way he kept glancing behind him. But, soon enough, the "Wedding March" played and in came a flower girl with a mass of blond curls and huge blue eyes, enjoying her importance so immensely that there was a snowstorm of flower petals wherever she went.

Behind her came two bridesmaids who looked as though they had better things to do, and finally Macey, who gnawed her lip all the way down the aisle.

However no one, not even the bride, tried to stop the wedding. When the justice of the peace announced, "You may kiss the bride," she felt Zach's arm droop slightly as his muscles relaxed and she realized he'd been as tense as she.

* * *

><p>After the wedding came a sit-down dinner reception. Usually, when Cammie went to a big do, she and Josh were close to invisible. Conversation tended to stall when people found out they were both actuaries. But Zach's table felt like the table at the center of the universe.<p>

He was hailed, backslapped, joked with, teased and flirted with so often she wondered how he managed to get any food down. He bore it in good part, managing to charm the women, talk racing jargon with the men and still find time to fiddle with Cammie's hair, place an arm around her shoulders, whisper supposed secrets in her ear.

His behavior kept her on edge and fluttery, so it was hard to eat anything. Since one of his whispered intimacies was to remind her that she was suppose to be crazy in love, too, she let herself do what she'd wanted to do all evening. She traced the shape of that scar with a fingertip. She felt the tiniest thread of scar tissue and a slight dent. His skin was warm and beneath the pads of her fingers she felt the slight scratched of stubble. When she would have removed her hand, he took her wrist and kissed it.

Her pulse jumped as though it wanted to kiss him back.

Down girl, she reminded herself. It's pretend.

As she made her way through the high-class version of banquet rubber chicken, she felt a stab of guilt. She should be at her own actuarial dinner eating the plebeian version of rubber chicken. Josh's behavior didn't abnegate her responsibility of her employer. If only her _ex_-fiancée had told her earlier, given her time to get used to heartbreak and humiliation, she might have handled this evening with her head instead of her damaged heart.

Maybe her behavior wasn't entirely appropriate, but so long as she got to the banquet before the speeches, she doubted she'd be missed.

While the ritual wedding toasts were made, she kept an eye on her watch.

The first dance between the bride and groom had Cammie blinking in surprise. Macey seemed to have forgotten all about Zach and for this dance, anyway, she had eyes for no one but her latest husband. And Preston looked as though he cradled the most precious being in the world. Why, that man was the one crazy in love, Cammie thought. She hoped he didn't end up heartbroken.

It wasn't a great feeling.

A glance at her watch told her it was nice. After the actuary dinner, which would be winding up about now, coffee would be poured and there would be the usual speech from the president of the association that had never been clocked in at shorter than sixty minutes.

"I should really get back to the hotel. I need to get my acceptance speech from my room."

"Fine by me. Let's get out of here."

Since they'd been snuggling all evening, she wasn't at all surprised when he took her hand. A woman could get used to this guy, she thought. And this woman better not.

They made their way unimpeded out the front door, which made her sigh with relief.

Probably it was rude to leave without saying goodbye, but in Zach's case, goodbye undoubtedly took hours.

"So you'll definitely come to my banquet with me?" she asked as they walked out into the still, warm air of a May evening.

He glanced at her, and a tiny frown pulled his brows together. "What exactly is this award?"

"Does it matter?" If she told him the truth about herself, she felt as though all the magic would drain out of the evening.

Zach glanced up at the night sky twinkling like a sea of glitter.

"See, the thing is, I'm a broadminded guy. But I've got sponsors. Fans." He glanced at her and looked a little embarrassed. "I hate to be acting like a prude here, but if you're adult movie actress of the year, or something—and believe me, when I say that I think it's a great honor—then I'm going to have to pass."

"Adult movie…?" For a second she was stumped, then she sucked in a breath. "You mean pornography?"

"Hey, listen, I'm all good, clean fun in the privacy of your living room but, like I said, I've got to be careful…"

She turned to him. "You think people would pay to see me in sex movies?"

"Absolutely."

"Thank you," she said, feeling better than she'd felt all night. "But I am not a porn star."

That crooked grin was aimed her way and with it the crinkling of that scar that for some reason made her weak at the knees. "You kiss like one."

She tamped down her delight with a feigned severity. "And how would you know how a porn star kisses?"

His evil chuckle was drowned out by the approaching sports car. The low, red car zoomed up and Zach opened the door for her, then walked around to tip the valet and slide into the driver's seat.

She found herself back in the convertible flying along the highway a million miles an hour.

When she tilted her head back to look up at the sky, it was like a kaleidoscope where the pattern kept changing too fast for her to keep up.

"So, are you going to tell me what this award's about?" Zach yelled over the combined noise of the road and the wind.

"No. Not yet. But I promise it's perfectly respectable."

"I'm trusting you here, Cammie."

"Trust," she said emphatically, "is the cornerstone of good business."

"You know, honey, you are an interesting woman. You talk like an accountant with the same mouth that kisses like a porn star."

"Well, trust me, all resemblance to a porn star ends with kissing."

He laughed and threw an arm around her shoulder. "Why don't you let me decide?" That's when she realized he had misconstrued her meaning.

She blinked at her. He appeared more than pleased by the notion of having sex with her. In two years Josh had never looked that interested.

But then, Zach had only known her a few hours, and he thought she was someone else.

Was it her imagination or did they travel back to the hotel a lot faster than they'd traveled to the wedding?

Impossible to tell, but before she could believe it, he was pulling up in front of the hotel. Oh, cool. He was using valet parking. She felt rich and important as she slid from the car, while yet another parking attendant held her door open for her.

"Good evening, Mr. Goode," the doorman said, and then nodded to her. "Miss."

When she swooshed through the door and found herself in the main-floor lobby, she blinked. There was the illuminated sign confirming that the actuary banquet was in ballrooms A and B.

"Where are you going?" Zach asked as he fell into step with her.

"The actuarial banquet. I'm going to take a peek and make sure I have time to run upstairs and grab my speech."

He studied the sign, then glanced at her. "You're kidding me.

"No," she said, feeling like Cinderella would have if she'd transformed back into the dowdy drudge before Prince Charming's eyes.

Instead of looking disappointed, or jumping into his race car and zooming off, he tipped back his head and laughed, a big, booming sound. "This, I have to see."

Most of the door to ballrooms A and B were shut, but she found one that was propped open. She crept towards it and stuck her head inside. Amazingly, the president had kept it short this year. He was winding things up. There was no time to get herself another key and run upstairs and get her speech. She'd barely made it here in time.

Oh, well. She'd practiced her speech so many times, she'd mostly memorized the thing, anyway.

The president of the actuary association of America was praising someone who exemplified all the qualities of the best actuary.

"This year's winter combines a keen mind with exceptional organization abilities. She's been top…"

"What are we going here?" Zach whispered, coming behind her and kissing her neck.

"Basking," she said. "And keep doing that."

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's my pleasure to present this year's Sharpened Pencil Award to Cameron Morgan."

"Hah." she said, tipping her head back to smile at Zach. "Talk about good timing."

"This is your award?"

"Yep. I'm Actuary of the Year. I have to give a speech. Kiss me for luck?"

* * *

><p><strong>AND THAT'S IT REMEMBER I AM RECOVERING FROM MY SECOND BRUISED RIB SO IT MIGHT BE A WHILE TILL I HAVE THE NEXT CHAPTER UP BUT REVIEW AND I WILL TRY THANK YOU FOR STAYING WITH ME<strong>

**~KRISTINA **


	7. Chapter 6 Boredom that's the answer!

**HEY GUYS PLEASE DON'T KILL ME I'M NOT GOING TO LIE TO YOU ON WHY I HAVEN'T UPDATE. THE REAL REASON IS BECAUSE WELL SCHOOL. MY PARENTS ARE PRESSURING ME TO BE THE BEST. TO GET GOOD GRADES AND EVERYTHING. PLUS I'M TAKING EXTRA CLASSES ON SATURDAYS SO THAT DOESN'T HELP BUT FROM NOW ON I'M GOING TO TRY AND UPDATE ON TIME, ALL MY STORIES! SO YEAH ENJOY!**

**AND I WANT TO THANK EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED AND ADDED MY TO THEIR FAV STORIES/AUTHORS OR ADDED ME ON THEIR STORY/AUTHOR ALERT! THANKS AGAIN STICK WITH ME GUYS!**

* * *

><p><strong>RECAP<strong>

"Hah," she said, tipping her head back to smile at Zach. "Talk about good timing."

"This is your award?"

* * *

><p>"Yep. I'm Actuary of the Year. I have to give a speech. Kiss me for luck?"<p>

He did, and the tingle on her lips was just the fuel she needed to make the long walk to the podium.

All the dark-clad men and women at the tables in ballrooms A and B were clapping.

They were clapping for her. The tiny voice had ruled her, sleeping and waking, for so many years, was throwing some kind of hissy fit, but she couldn't hear it over the sound of polite applause.

She walked up to the microphone and there was the president of her organization, Joe Solomon, staring at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes.

Mr. Solomon had been a friend of her father's and ran the only insurance company in Chaska larger than the one where she worked.

"Thank you very much." She reached forward and kissed him, Hollywood-style, and he pushed the award forward, Actuary Association-style. The sharp point of the trophy, a sharpened pencil, poked her right above her heart. Somehow, that seemed significant.

She stated out at all those dark suits and dresses, all those white-moon faces staring at her.

"Ladies and gentlemen, guest, colleagues." Pause. Breathe. "Trust is the cornerstone of our business."

_Trust_. The word seemed to shimmer in her mind so each letter sizzled neon.

"Trust." She repeated the word, hearing it echo around the still, waiting room.

Three hundred ghostly faces stared at her. Josh sat about three tables from the front. Through some trick of the overhead lighting, or maybe the fluorescent bounce of his pale brown hair, he stood out.

If she scanned her gaze to the left, to the entrance and exit to the ballroom, there was Zach, standing with his back against the wall, watching her.

In that moment, everything inside her went still.

The silence lengthened to become a palpable thing—something you could feel in the air, like humidity. She heard some shuffling, and a couple of cleared throats. Somewhere, somebody started chatting in a low voice.

She felt dizzy, and realized inside her she'd sailed blindly into the perfect emotional storm.

She glanced at the Sharpened Pencil Award she'd placed on the podium. So straight that pencil was, so sharp. And she started to speak.

"I'm honored that you could choose me for this prestigious award, but I can't accept it."

Actuaries weren't the most emotive of souls, and there was not as much as a gasp from the audience. She noticed that the chatting stopped, though, and the silence felt keener.

She smiled. "I know these speeches are usually pretty boring. Let's face it, our jobs are pretty boring, but what we do is important. Without us and our calculations, retirees could run out of money before running out of life. Insurance companies would go bankrupt if we didn't calculate risk. What we do matters."

She took a sip from the glass of water that had been provided.

"I talked about trust, but there's more than just trust involved in being a good actuary. We also need to act with integrity and judgment."

She looked straight at Josh. "I've always prided myself on my judgment, but somewhere I went badly wrong. I became engaged to a man who has been carrying on with another woman under my nose. We three are colleagues in the same office, and I was clueless.

She shook her head, appalled. She has everyone's attention now.

"I think a person who is so blind to the kind of deceit and drama going on in her own life might not be sharp enough to catch discrepancies in her work."

She paused to sip more water. He hands were surprisingly steady.

"Trust, integrity, and good judgment are three cornerstones." _And what kind of judgment are you showing now? _ an inner voice railed.

"But a building has to have four corners or it will topple. Honesty is I think the final piece. I have lived dishonestly for the last four months, through no fault of my own except blindness. My colleague and fiancée informed me earlier this evening that he's in love with someone else. I've been blind, foolish. I've been living a lie. So, you see, I am the wrong person to accept this award although I hope one day to be worthy of it. Thank you." And she turned and walked slowly away, leaving the sharpened pencil pointing in the air like a rude middle finger.

* * *

><p>ZACH<p>

Zach watched his date of the evening with a combination of shock and admiration.

Okay, so he'd already pretty much figured out that Jonas hadn't sent her and she wasn't like any actress he'd ever met. But her speech still shook him to the toes. She'd been dumped by a cheating fiancée if he understood her speech correctly, and was refusing an award that probably meant a lot to her—on ethical grounds.

Wow.

He'd pretty much written off the evening as a nightmare before it even started. How had he ended up having such an amazing time.

There was something about this woman with her quiet sexiness, her clear intelligence and her obvious integrity, that got to him.

He wondered why the evening had been so different than he'd imagined and then it hit him. He hadn't been bored.

Boredom had been part of his life so often recently that it was like an allergy—he'd become so used to it that when the symptoms cleared up he felt incredible relief.

Of course, not a soul in the world knew about this problem of his. Only a loser would whine when he had everything he's ever wanted.

And he wouldn't do that. He'd flipped the bird to his family, his predestined future and pretty much the world a lot of years ago and set out to prove himself.

Here he was, with everything he'd ever wanted. And if sometimes it all got to be too much of the same old, same old then he's suck it up and shut up. Faking being on top of the world was pretty easy when everybody already accepted that that's where you were sitting.

But when had he last laughed from that ticklish place deep in his gut that had been so accessible as a kid and so unreachable now? He couldn't remember. Until tonight when his supposed party girl had announced she wasn't an actress at all, but an actuary.

No wonder Cammie had kept him the opposite of bored. Between grabbing him back from Macey, slapping down his ex-wife's dirty old daddy and now standing up there and pretty much blowing off her career because of her principals, she not only amused him she won his admirations.

When she came off that stage, the applause was tepid; the glances sent her way were everything from confused to disbelieving.

She appeared more shocked by her behavior than anybody. She looked like a rookie after a first major race. She was pale and shaky and looked as if she might puke.

What she needed was somebody to take her mind off the ordeal. "Hey" he said. "Great speech."

"Thanks"

"Would it hurt your career any if I kissed you?"

"I think I just threw away my career," she said in a voice of sunned shock.

"Then I guess this can't hurt." And he leaned in and kissed her. What was it about this mouth of hers that he found so irresistible? It talked smart and kissed sexy. He was barely aware of the hundreds of people in the room except that he wanted them all gone and to have Cammie alone. He raised he head and she said

"Let's get out of here"

He grinned at her. "You must have read my mind."

"Cammie," a man said in a furious tone. He and Cammie bother looked back at the guy he recognized from the elevator. The nervous-looking blonde clinging to his arm must be the one he'd been kissing. "How could you have been so small-minded and…and vindictive? You made a fool out of me!"

Zach's date looked at the guy for a long moment and said, "No. I didn't. You did that all by yourself."

Zach scooped her hand into his and they left without a backward glance.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked her as they crossed the mostly deserted lobby.

"I'm thinking of locking myself in a bathroom somewhere, then throwing up and doing a lot of moaning."

He chuckled. "No, you're no. You totally impressed me. Probably a lot of other people too."

"I did?" Her eyes were serious but with an edge of dreaminess he liked.

"Yeah. You told off a whole roomful of suits and you never raised your voice once. If I was president of that association I'd be getting your ex's ass fired and making you CEO of the company."

The line between her brows disappeared. "You would?"

"Yep. You're the one with guts and integrity."

"Thanks." They walked a little farther. "You're right. We have to celebrate. I did something I've never done before. I stood up for myself and told somebody off."

"You've never done that before?"

"Not really. Well—" she glanced at him "—Macey, earlier tonight but that was acting."

"I have to say, you're doing great for a beginner."

"Thanks." She sighed and gazed up at him. "You know what I want to do now?"

"What?"

"I want to do something else I've never done before. Do you have any idea how many things I've never even tried?"

He was curious as to what she'd say. "No."

She started listing things off on fingers of one hand. "I've never scuba dived, even though I love the ocean."

"Well, we're kind of far from it here. And they don't let you do out if you've had a drink or two."

She gasped. "And that's another thing. You know I've never been drunk?"

"Didn't you ever turn twenty-one?"

"Of course I did. A few months ago. But I was studying for a final exam I had to take. I couldn't waste a whole study night to go drinking."

"Now that's just plain tragic."

"Where are we going?" They'd walked outside the hotel. The air was warm and dry. Even though it was dark, he slipped his sponsor's shades on, hoping the suit and sunglasses would make him less recognizable. There were so many race fans in town for Sunday that he was liable to be mobbed if he was recognized.

"I figured out the perfect thing for you."

"Something I've never tired before?"

"That's right. I'm guessing you've never raced a stock car before."

"No-o-o-o." She licked her lips and gazed up at him, that little line appearing between her brows. "I thought I'd more my way up through my list. Staring with easy things. I'm not sure I should be racing quite yet."

"Trust me. You'll love it."

* * *

><p>"OH MY GOSH, I clipped him. Aaaaggh! I'm going too fast. I can't hold on! I'm going to crash. I'm going to kill us both!"<p>

Zach was getting as much of a kick watching Cammie play the new NASCAR video game as she was playing. (Really thought he was going to let her drive a real car huh ) He finders welded to the controlled and her eyes wide as she stared at the moving images on the screen.

She'd never be a beauty, but there was something very appealing about the way she gave her whole focus to what she was doing, weather it was playing a video game, telling off her ex or kissing him.

When she'd played four games in a row, she'd finally threw up her arms and gave up.

There were six of them at the table—his crew chief, a few guys from the team and Nick Patterson, a little younger than Zach but he'd become a good friend. They'd both been featured in People's 50 Hottest Bachelors issue, and what had started out as good-natured ribbing about which of them was really the hottest has turned into a friendship.

Since Nick was a lot better at video NASCAR, he'd taught Cammie. By the time she'd mastered the basics they were fat friends, and he was toasting her success. "Cammie, you're a natural." He glanced at Zach with a grin that melted a lot of female hearts and signaled to Zach that trouble was on its way "We should get her a ride, Zach. She'd be a great driver."

"Are you kidding? I crashed three times, lost control once and I'm pretty sure I made a yellow car blow up."

"Sounds like a good day on the track to me," Nick said with a toothy grin a lot of women seemed to go for.

Cammie laughed as though Nick was the funniest guy in NASCAR. He has to be a few years younger than she was. Nick didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, Zach might have to remind his fellow driver to find his own woman before the night got much older...

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><p><strong>SO THAT'S IT I'LL TRY AND UPDATE AS SOON AS I CAN BUT I HAVE MID-TERN TEST FOR MY ONE OF MY SATURDAY CLASSES SO I NEED TO STUDY BUT REVIEW AND I'LL TRY MY HARDEST I LOVE YOU ALL FOR SUPPORTING ME!<strong>

**~KRISTINA~**


	8. Chapter 7 Sideways Promotion?

***Comes out of hiding* Ohhh hey guys… sooo I really wanted to write but I haven't had time because well EIGHTH GRADE SUCKS! I have been really busy with homework and important projects they give us and everything. So I decided since I am on break I am going to crank out as many chapter as possible for you guys because well I love you guys! Thanks everyone who reviewed and everything! This chapter is your CHRISTMAS PRESANT and if you don't celebrate Christmas well it's a just a chapter then… So enjoy!**

**OH AND I DO NOT OWN GALLAGHER GIRLS SERIES AND THE SPEED DATING BOOK :P BUT I DO WANT THEM FOR CHRISTMAS…**

**OH AND THE COVER FOR THIS STORY IS NOW ON MY PROFILE UNDER FALLING INTO PLACE PICTURES!**

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><p><strong>RECAP:<strong>

_"Are you kidding? I crashed three times, lost control once and I'm pretty sure I made a yellow car blow up."_

_"Sounds like a good day on the track to me," Nick said with a toothy grin a lot of women seemed to go for._

_Cammie laughed as though Nick was the funniest guy in NASCAR. He has to be a few years younger than she was. Nick didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, Zach might have to remind his fellow driver to find his own woman before the night got much older..._

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><p>Cammie woke to the sound of moaning. Unfortunately, she was the one doing the moaning<p>

She'd drunk champagne at the wedding and then has a beer while playing that video game. She was definitely what people referred to as a cheap drunk. Maybe she ought to winnow that list of "never dones" before embarking on too many more first.

Underneath her pounding head and slightly rocky stomach was a feeling of persistent euphoria, however. Last night she'd been the kind of women she admired. Strong, adventurous—Zach Goode had called her kick-ass.

She quite liked that view of herself. Of course, in the racing world, being kick-ass was no doubt a good thing. In the actuarial world, she wasn't so sure.

No one in history had ever refused the Sharpened Pencil Award. It had felt like the right thing to do when she'd stared right at Josh and his pregnant girlfriend and realized how incredibly blind she'd been, but had she gone too far?

She rolled out of bed, showered and dressed. Today she was going home. Back to her life, her job, and the humiliating reality of facing her ex-fiancée's new love growing rounder every day with his child.

To think that twenty-four hours ago everything had been so different. She's still been blindly engaged, arrogant enough to think she deserved the Sharpened Pencil and had never met a NASCAR driver in her life.

Zach. What an extraordinary date he'd turned out to be. Sexy, funny, gorgeous. Aloof. She suspected he was an easy man on the surface and one it was very difficult to really get to know. He'd helped make sure she got her key when they returned to the hotel in the wee hours, and he'd given her a brief but scrumptious kiss outside her door.

She hoped he hadn't left Charlotte yet. She wanted to say goodbye.

She could phone him but—no. She should thank him in person for the fun she'd had last night. As she reached her hotel room door, someone knocked on it.

Her pulse jumped. Zach? Was he thinking of her as she was thinking of him?

When she opened the door, her regional manager, Abby Solomon, was standing there. With her was the VP of human resources, Patricia Buckingham.

"Oh," she said in a surprise. "Hello. Would you like to come in?"

"If it's convenient."

"Of course"

It felt very strange to have two of the muckety-mucks from her company in her hotel room. She wished more than ever she'd passed on that beer last night. She had a feeling a clear head was going to be called for.

"Sorry to barge in on you like this, Cameron," Abby said. She was a beautiful woman, strong with an attitude who kept her desk so clean that dust didn't dare settle.

Patricia was a genteel British woman with an athletic build. She had thick lips and a ready laugh.

"That's all right." She glanced around. There were two chairs at a small table under the window, and a third chair at the small desk where her computer sat. "Please sit down."

She carried the chair from the desk closer to the table.

"Thank you. We would have liked a more conventional meeting space but—" Patricia raised her hands "—we gave up all our meeting rooms. And we wanted privacy."

"Really, it's fine." She was all packed since they were leaving today, so the room was as impersonal as any meeting space if they all turned their backs to the bed.

"Well." Abby was obviously the designated speaker at this meeting and she seemed as though she wasn't sure where to begin.

Her churning stomach now had nothing to do with alcohol.

"Cameron, you speech last night was a, um, surprise to all of us. I…we…those of us in senior management had a meeting this morning, in person and conference call. We agreed that your speech—you behavior, in fact—was inappropriate."

Her feeling of being a kick-ass woman began to dissipate faster than snow beneath a blowtorch. "Perhaps you're right. I admit I didn't intend to say what I did. I should have taken more time to think it over."

"Yes," Patricia agreed. "You should've."

"As I'm sure you realize," she said, "Josh Abrams and I—"

"Yes, indeed. A very distressing situation. Josh came to us last night, very upset. He held nothing back. We want you to know Cameron, he was candid that his relationship with made you very emotional."

Anger swept through her like a brush fire. "He broke our engagement less than an hour before the banquet. I wasn't very emotional. I was betrayed, angry, and heartbroken."

"The situation, as I'm sure you can understand, is untenable. We simply cannot have these kind of personal dramas affecting our work."

"Of course not," she agreed. "I assure you that I will do my job, as I always have, with the utmost professional integrity. However, I have been blind not to see what was going on under my nose. It was the lack of perspicacity in myself which made me refuse that award. It wouldn't have been right to accept it."

"Nevertheless, your speech publicly embarrassed our company and one of our senior employees."

"An employee who has been humiliating me for months behind my back." She had to stay calm, she reminded herself even as her voice shook.

"Cameron." Abby went for the avuncular tone. She supposed Abby thought she had a right to treat her like a child. "I've known you a long time and believe you've got a wonderful future ahead of you."

"Oh, good." She breathed out. "I thought for a second there you were going to fire me."

Abby cleared her throat and looked at the blank table as though searching for something to straighten or tidy. "Of course not. However, we are a respected firm. We cannot allow people involved personally to affect the workplace."

"Then you might want to separate Josh and Dee Dee."

"We're moving to Payroll. She's accepted the new position."

"Where are you moving me? The mail room?"

Patricia spoke up. This obviously her leg of the dog and pony show. "We're transferring you to the branch office in Burnsville. You'll be assistant branch manager."

She blinked. "That's a storefront insurance office that isn't even open yet. I'm not an insurance clerk. I'm an actuary."

"I'm sorry, Cameron, but we think this is for the best. As you point out, the Burnsville location won't be viable for a few months. We're offering you a three-month stress leave. When you return to work you'll report to the Burnsville office."

"Stress leave?" She stared from one to the other. "You think _I_ need a _stress_ leave?"

The silence was so think she heard Patricia's shoes scrape the carpet as he shifted.

"And Josh?"

"He'll remain where he is. We feel we've solved the problem."

"But_ Josh_ was the problem"

"This isn't open to discussion, Cameron. The decision has been made."

She looked from one to the other; unable to believe what she was hearing. Josh kept his job, and the two women he'd been involved with got demoted? She was sent off on a stress leave for three months? "What if I refuse?"

"Your position has been relocated to Burnsville. You have no job in the Chaska office."

All those years. All that training. The hours she'd put in, the loyalty she'd felt for the company. It was so blatantly unfair, sexist and wrong that she felt like screaming. An outburst that would only confirm their obvious conclusion that she was too emotional.

"So you're demoting me."

"Not at all. This is an excellent opportunity to learn another part of the business. Consider it a sideways promotion."

She wanted to tell them to take their measly sideways promotion and shove it sideways. But she had Twenty-one years of good-girl behavior against one short night as a rebel.

There was no contest.

* * *

><p><strong>ZACH! (AHHH)<strong>

* * *

><p>Zach was looking for a missing sock when his cell phone rang.<p>

"Zach?" the soft voice of his ex-wife greeted him.

"Macey? Aren't you supposed to be on honeymoon?"

"Honestly, Zach, you never listen to a word I say" He'd heard that line often enough when they were married. "Our plane doesn't leave until Thursday."

"Right." There was a pause. Since he was the ex-husband, asking about her wedding night didn't seem appropriate, although he couldn't think of anything more inappropriate that her calling him on her first morning married to another guy.

"What's up?"

"I wanted to tell you how happy I am that you've found someone special. At first I thought she was awful, but then I saw you two kissing and I could tell that you and Cammie are totally in love." Her voice lowered. "It's the only thing that made me go through that ceremony last night. If you're happy in love, then maybe I can find it, too."

Oh great. He and Macey had, had a pretty wretched marriage, all told. Between the yelling and the scenes, her being in love with the excitement of what he did and then freaking out before every race, there'd been little peace. Then there was the issue of her being a spoiled little rich girl and him being an equally spoiled rich boy. They hadn't stood a chance.

Still, he harbored a stubborn affection for Macey. She was flighty and spoiled, but she was also sweet. When she'd said she wanted a divorce, he'd felt nothing but relief. It took him month to realize that when she'd thrown those words at him she'd been loving the drama and expected him to talk her out of leaving. In the three marriages between, she still hadn't given up on getting back together. He was fairly certain that she was drawn to the excitement of his world, but what she really craved was stability. He also wished she'd figure out soon that she didn't love him anymore than he loved her.

However, to blow her off would be like kicking a little Persian kitten for scratching up the upholstery. He couldn't do it.

Macey's biggest problem was that she was born a fool for romance.

Being a three-time loser at marriage hadn't dampened her sentimental notions an iota. Usually her starry-eyed romantic routine irritated him, but in the case of him and Cammie, he was glad Macey had decided to see true love where none existed. Cammie might not be a real actress, but she'd ended up doing a good job last night of acting crazy for him.

"I am telling you, Macy, that woman means the world to me. Like you mean the world to Preston."

"I know. I'm so happy for you. She seemed really slutty at first, but maybe that's the kind of woman you need," his ex-wife said with no irony that he could detect.

"Yeah, well, it might be a good idea to stop calling her a slut. I don't think she appreciated it."

"I guess it was prewedding jitters. Look, honey, if she's going to be part of your life, she's going to be part of mine. Put her on the phone, will you? I want to apologize."

"Um, she's in the bathroom right now."

"Oh. You're not just saying that are you? Because if she's right there and doesn't want to speak to me, well, I'll have to drive over there and apologize in person."

"No. No! Don't do that."

"But she'll be at the race tomorrow. I'm bound to see her. I want everything smoothed out now. You know how I am. I worry."

"You're going to the race?" What was wrong with Preston that he couldn't grab his wife and get the pair of them on their honeymoon like a normal couple?

"Sure. You're in town. I'm in town. Why wouldn't I go?"

"Because you're on your honeymoon," he reminded her,

"That's silly. Preston loves racing. We're all from the same town. We should support each other."

Oh like that was going to happen.

"Let me talk to her, Zach"

"The shower's still running. I should warn you that she's a bit of a clean freak. Once she gets in that shower, I swear she shampoos her toenails. She'll be a good few minutes yet."

"Okay. I'll talk to you until she comes out." She sighed. "Wasn't that a beautiful wedding?"

In Zach's top ten things he hated discussing, "beautiful wedding" would make the top three. "Sure was. Where's Preston? Shouldn't you two be makin' babies or something?"

"I sent him off to the jewelry store to get my wedding ring made smaller."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you and Cammie without him listening in, that's why. He thinks I'm having a facial."

"You're a spoiled brat, you know that?"

"Of course I know it, and so does Preston. He'd do anything for me."

"He's a fool."

There was a short pause. "You're not going to make me mad enough to hang up on you so quiet trying. Is Cammie out of the shower yet?"

He grabbed his room card and stuck it in his pocket before slipping out of his hotel room and into the hall.

"She's singing the 'Hallelujah Chorus,' so that means she's shaving her legs. She's almost done."

"Good. So, did you think the ceremony was too short? I didn't want to make too big a deal of it, being it was my fourth wedding and all."

Two hundred guest and enough candles to light up outer space wasn't a big deal? "No," he said. "I thought it was perfect."

From long experience, he knew he could make mmm-hmm noises periodically and Macey would keep talking. Right now she was going on about twinkle lights. Twinkle lights! "Mmm-hmm."

He banged on Cammie's door, hoping she'd still be there.

"Who is it?" he heard a minute later, in a tone that sounded as though she were expecting a firing squad.

"Honey," he said, loud enough for her to hear him through the hotel door, "Macey is on the phone. She wants to talk to you."

A beat passed.

"Honey?"

The door opened.

He blinked. "Cammie?" He'd barely have recognized the women standing in front of him. She was dressed in a dirt-colored suit with a turtleneck color of mould underneath. Her shoes were the flat kind favored by old women with bad knees. He hair was neat and her posture stiff. What had happened to last night's women?

Even her eyes changed. Last night, they'd been sparkly and daring; this morning, they looked far too old for a young women.

"What is it?" he asked, forgetting for the moment why he was there. He felt an impulse to wrap her in his arms. If anyone had ever needed a hug, it was Cammie.

She shook her head. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Right. The phone. "Macey wants to speak to you."

"She does?"

He nodded. He didn't have the heart to tell this model of propriety that Macey was about to apologize for calling her slutty. He simply handed over the phone.

She hesitated and he mouthed, "Please?"

"Hello?"

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><p><em><strong>MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS!<strong>_

**THAT'S IT! SORRY I'LL HAVE THE NEXT CHAPTER UP SOON BUT REVIEW AND REMEMBER THAT THE _COVER FOR THIS STORY IS ON MY PROFILE_! LOVE YOU ALL!**

**~KRISTINA**


	9. Chapter 8 Stress Leave

**Hey guys… just read I'll explain why I was gone for so long at the end**

**Disclaimer- Do not own Gallagher Girls, even though I asked from them for my birthday and Speed Dating**

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><p><strong>RECAP:<strong>

She shook her head. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Right. The phone. "Macey wants to speak to you."

"She does?"

He nodded. He didn't have the heart to tell this model of propriety that Macey was about to apologize for calling her slutty. He simply handed over the phone.

She hesitated and he mouthed, "Please?"

"Hello?"

* * *

><p><strong>ZACH POV<strong>

After that there was a pretty long silence from Cammie's ends. A simple, "I'm sorry," from Macey was going to take at least fifteen minutes. Since he didn't feel like waiting out in the hallway, he nudge past Cammie and went to sit on the armchair in the corner of her room.

She followed him in, the phone still held to her ear. There was an open suitcase on the bed with a lot of suit-type clothes neatly folded. He'd never seen so many colors inspired by mud.

"That's all right. Really. I quite understand. No offense taken."

Then her gaze flew to his and she blushed. Macey must have got to the part about them being in crazy love.

Cammie crossed to the bed and sat primly on the edge, besides the open suitcase. "Oh, wel…" she faltered.

He jumped up. She'd better not undo all that good work from last night. "Come on, honey," he said loud enough that Macey could hear. "Get off the phone and come back to bed to snuggle with me, the beds cold."

"Oh, I know," she said weakly, shooting him a glare that she hadn't put much effort into. "Yes. Insatiable. You, too. Goodbye."

Cammie hung up, then handed back his phone. She looked a little stunned, but at least she had some color back in her face.

"So, you did a good job last night. She thinks we're totally in love."

"That's nice."

"Nice? It's fantastic. You saved me. Thanks."

She hung her head. "I impersonated some else, went out on a date in my underwear, gave a speech the actuarial association will never forget. Don't thank me."

He chuckled. "That speech was fantastic. I was proud to know you."

He shoved the suitcase out of the way and sat beside her on the bed, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Forget that bunch of dull suits last night. Your acceptance speech was probably the most fun any of them have ever had."

She shuddered against him. "Some of those dull suits were my bosses. First thing this morning I was given a 'sideways promotion,' which is weasel-speak for I've been demoted."

"What?"

She nodded sadly still looking down.

"Well, that's plain stupid. I hope you told them to take their lousy job and shove it."

She sighed and fiddled with one of the latches on her case. "We live in very different worlds, you and I. Mine is all about risk assessment. Up until yesterday, I was an asset to my company. Today I'm a liability. I'm risky. If I could embarrass my bosses at an organization function, then maybe I'd do the same at a board meeting. My company is very conservative. They've taken steps to minimize damage. They say I'm being moved for my own good and they probably mean it."

"They're messing with one of their best people—or do they give that pencil to anybody?"

"No. You're right. It's a very prestigious award." She looked at him and there was a crease between her brows. "So why didn't I simply just tell you who I was when we first met last night, get my dress, go to the actuarial banquet and give the speech as scheduled?"

The question seemed to be a no-brainer to him. "Because you wanted to have some fun…and there was no way you were going to have fun at a corporate dinner. I about went into a coma from entering the room. It wasn't until you got going that the place livened up."

She put a hand to her head. She had dainty hands, he noticed with long fingers. Her nails were longer than he would have expected, too, and painted pink. "Maybe they're right and I showed poor judgment."

"Maybe your ex should keep it zipped," Cammie mumbled.

She glanced up and laughed, giving him a glimpse of the women he'd had so much fun with last night. Then she sobered. "The two women involved were reassigned. Josh gets to keep his job. The old double standard is alive and well in corporate America."

He didn't even know how to respond to that, but he felt vaguely guilty simply for being a man, "What are you going to do?"

"Take the job. At least I'll have the security of a paycheck while I think about my options."

"You don't sound real thrilled about that idea."

"I'm not." she said shortly.

"Do you need that job that badly?"

A tiny smile tilted her lips but not a hint of teeth showed. "I'm an actuary. I calculate risk for a living. The first thing I did after I paid off my student loans was build an emergency fund equal to six months' salary. But it's easier to find a job when you already have one."

"You started a job by figuring out what the odds were on losing it?"

She nodded.

He scratched his jaw. She was still pale, but a little color was coming back into her cheeks."

"Why don't you tell them to shove it and take a few weeks' vacation, which, if you don't mind me saying, you look like you could use, and then you find another job?"

"In your world it may be that simple. Not in mine."

"Babe, when you screw up in my business, you end up turning cartwheels strapped inside a tin can going a hundred and eighty miles an hour."

She shuddered

"So do something else. You're too much fun for that roomful of corpses last night."

She shook her head, and then put a hand to her forehead as thought she'd forgotten she had a headache. "You're wrong. I'm exactly like those corpses. You've unfortunately got the wrong impression of me from my behavior last night. Perfectly understandable. We make decisions about a person based on first impressions. I showed up in your room half dress, I—"

"I thought you looked great."

Those long fingers with the pink nails touched her turtleneck as though checking it still covered her up to her chin. Unfortunately, it did. "Thank you. The point is, our meeting was all in error and then I compounded that error by pretending to be someone I wasn't, for which I owe you an apology."

This woman was way too hard on herself.

"Bryce left a message. The woman who was supposed to be my date last night had an appendicitis attack. Honey, you saved my butt."

"Well. That's good."

"Why don't you take some time off? Stick around here for a few days. Watch the race tomorrow. You'll be doing me the biggest favor of my life if you hang on my arm and tell Macey more about how much you love and adore me and how incredible I am."

She managed a small eye-roll, which made him smirk.

"She's married now. What difference can it make?"

"Hah. Macey treats marriage as a temporary inconvenience. All she has to do is get it back into her head that the astrologer meant she was supposed to be with me and she'll do something like embarrass me on national TV. Really."

Cammie shook her head. "I'd really like to help you, but I can't. I have to get back to Chaska."

"Hey, I'll tell you what. Tell them you need a couple of weeks off. It will give them time to organize your move. Stick around until Thursday when Mace leaves on her honeymoon, then I'll fly you home myself."

She blinked at him as though he'd suggested she detour to the moon. "You'll fly me home?"

"Well, not me personally, but my plane will."

"What kind of plane?"

"A small Lear."

"I'm being offered a ride in a Learjet. I don't believe it, I must be dreaming." She mumbled and pinched herself to make sure it wasn't a dream.

He grinned at her. "It would be another first for that list of yours. And if you wear one of those slips tomorrow, you'll get on TV for sure."

That earned him a genuine laugh. "As tempted as I am, I can't."

Before he could argue, there was a knock on the door.

"Now what?" she muttered to herself in exasperation.

* * *

><p><strong>CAMMIE'S POV<strong>

Cammie's words were still echoing in her ears when she opened the door and got a big dose of exactly what she didn't want right now. Aggravation. Standing outside her door, looking self-righteous and condemning, was Josh.

Before she'd worked out how to handle this—her instinct was to slam the door in his face—Josh was inside her hotel room.

He'd begun talking as soon as she'd glimpsed his face. "I hope your pleased with yourself," he said, his usually placid tones jerky and annoyed. "What in—" He stopped short as he caught sight of Zach, who seemed like a dynamic comic book hero with his tall, dark good looks and his imposing body.

Next to him, Josh seemed like exactly what he was. A nondescript, desk bound middle manager with nice brown hair and not another interesting thing in his appearance.

Her head started to pound. She glanced at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes until it was safe to take another dose of painkiller.

"I don't think we've met," said Zach, holding out his hand as though Josh might be a fan in search of an autograph. "I'm Zach Goode."

Josh, as caught in the restraints of polite behavior as she, shook the offered hang as briefly as possible but spoke to Cammie. "Why is he in your hotel room?"

She opened her mouth to explain and Zach said, "Well, there's a stupid question if I ever heard one." His drawl was so good ol' boy it almost took him half an hour to spit out those words. The look he sent her as he said them almost made her bones melt.

Josh stared from one to the other. "Did you sleep with him last night?"

The words seemed to echo around the room. Zach didn't say a word but glanced her way with a tiny self-satisfied smirk and winked.

"That is none of your business," she snapped. Then she stalked into the bathroom leaving the door open. She took one of the hotel glasses, ran water from the tap, shook out two pain pills and swallowed them fourteen and one half minutes before the instructions printed on the back of the bottle said it was safe to do so.

At the moment, a little analgesic poisoning seemed a small price to pay for relief from the pounding in her skull.

"I would have never believed it," Josh said in outrage. He was doing such a great job of the innocent act that she was certain he'd end up getting promoted after he'd managed to dump her personally and screw her professionally in the space of a day.

"Well," she said, coming back into the room, "I would never have believed you'd start a relationship with one of our colleagues right under my nose. What do you want, anyways?"

"I fell it is my responsibility to the firm to ensure you get home safely." And in full view of everyone who was anyone in the industry. How had she never noticed what a toad he was?

"Well, aren't you a Boy Scout?" Zach said sounding like his mouth was full of grits.

He piled a couple of pillows up against the faux wood headboard and plonked himself down on her bed as though he were planning to stay for a while.

"Josh, I'm fine. Thank you. I'll see you downstairs."

"I wouldn't feel right leaving until he does," Josh said, gesturing with a jerk of his head to Zach.

"The thing is, I'm trying to proposition Cammie and it's tough with an audience.

"Oh, stop it," she snapped, beyond exasperation. "You're not—"

"I am," he said suddenly rising to his feet and stepping close. "Take a holiday. You sure look like you could use one. You can see a couple of races. We'll have a few laughs, go home when you feel like it."

"But I've got responsibilities, ob—"

She became aware that hers was not the only voice speaking. Josh talked over her. "You've got obligations at home. You've got to stop acing irrational!"

When she talked about her responsibilities, she felt mature and needed. Why, when Josh mentioned the same things, did she sound like an old maid?

"I'll be fine," she said firmly. Then walked over to the door and held it open until her ex-fiancé left, muttering under his breath.

She turned to say goodbye to Zach, and it was harder than she'd imagined to walk away from the only man in her entire life who'd even mistaken her for an exciting woman.

"Zach, I…" What? If you're ever in Chaska? For a wild second she contemplated giving him her business card, but Chaska was nowhere near the NASCAR tracks—which was only one indication of how far outside Zach's world she lived. "I enjoyed meeting you," she said

"I had a great time last night," he said, his voice low and sexy.

Their night out might have resulted in disaster, but she couldn't help the momentary spurt of pleasure when she recalled their evening. "I had a great time, too," she admitted, hoping she didn't sound too wistful.

"Bye, Cammie," he said, and pulled her to him and kissed her. He did something that made her shoulders and held tilt back and suddenly she was being kissed like she'd never been kissed before. A tiny sound came from her throat, kind of an oh-I-never-knew-it-could-be-like-this moan, and her arms went around his neck.

Suddenly, she wanted the clock to flip back to last night. She wanted to be in that foolish slip of silk masquerading as the kind of woman a man like Zach would parade on his arm. She felt her body tingle as the kiss continued. She'd have gone on kissing him for days if Zach hadn't finally pulled away.

He looked a little dazed. She couldn't imagine how dazed she must of appeared.

"Here's my card," he said digging one out of his pocket. "If you changed your mind."

"Thank you," she said, accepting the small rectangle. Of course she wouldn't call him, but she imagined she'd hang on to this card forever.

He left and, after she'd carefully placed that card inside her wallet, she fixed her lipstick and wheeled her suitcase out of her room and towards the elevator forcing herself not to look at Zach's door when she passed.

She passed a housekeeper a couple of doors down from Zach's room with a cart of cleaning products and bags of little soaps and shampoos. The woman nodded at Cammie and pushed her dark hair behind her ear. There was a newspaper sticking out of a full trash back and a headline about a presidential speech. Two things immediately struck Cammie as odd. One: she hadn't read this morning's paper—what with all the drama, there hadn't been time. And two: she didn't seem to care.

In that paper there was probably a whole lot of ink about tomorrow's race. She wondered if Zach was mentioned and if her date would soon face into one of those amazing celebrity encounter stories that didn't seem quite real.

Thankfully, she was alone in the elevator. She made her way swiftly through the lobby, having used the express checkout and left her keys in her room. When she got outside, she noted that the air was warm, the skies sunny. There was a lineup of people standing in front of the hotel, each with a black bag or tow. As her eyes focused, she realized that she knew most of them.

They were all members of the actuary association, people she'd hoped to avoid his morning. Now she remembered the chartered bus that had been booked to take the departing actuaries to the airport before they went their separate ways.

She greeted a few people as she walked to the end of the line, the wheels of her case bumping across the pavement.

Conversation wafted her way from some of the people standing in the line, bits and pieces of desultory chitchat which stopped suddenly. She turned slowly and saw Josh and Dee Dee. They weren't holding hands, but they looked as though they'd only recently stopped.

They took a few steps forward, saw Cammie at the end of the line and hesitated in perfect synchronization. She glanced at Josh and, as though realizing he couldn't stand there much longer without looking like the idiot he was, he started forward once more.

The two of them took their place in line behind Cammie.

Humiliation burned in her stomach. Some of these people were colleagues she's known for years. They'd been on her wedding invitation list. How could Josh do this to her?

"Um…Cammie?" Josh said softly behind her. He sounded tentative and kinder than he had earlier.

The thought flickered through her mind that he was going to apologize.

She had no idea how she'd respond, but an apology would be nice. Some admission that his behavior had been reprehensible would go a long way to soothing her lacerated feelings.

"Yes?" she said, turning to face him. She knew that every eye was on them and felt that she could one day forgive Josh if he tried to smooth things for her today, one her most difficult of days.

A low roar that sounded familiar came behind her, where the cars exited from the parking garage. Josh had to raise his voice to be heard above it. "I was wondering if you would mind changing seats with Dee Dee so she and I can sit together on the plane?"

Unbelievable.

Zach's car appeared a shiny red blur in her peripheral vision.

The line of dark-suited men and women stretched like a black rope that bound her to her past. Zach's sports car was the future, a rocket ship to adventure. It was her getaway car.

They wanted to gossip about her? She'd give them something to talk about.

"Hey, Zach," she shouted, stepping forward with her hand outstretched as though she were hailing a cab.

He slowed and pulled close to where she stood.

"Is the offer still open?"

He grinned at her, the dare in his eyes. "Hop in."

"Cammie, I strongly advise you to think about your behavior," Josh was saying behind her, while all those curious, gossip-hungry eyes looked on.

In seconds, Zach had stowed her luggage in the tiniest trunk she'd ever seen, the jumped back behind the wheel of the rumbling car.

They were pulling away when she heard Josh shout, "Are you crazy!"

"Oh, yes," she cried out, turning to send him a goodbye wave. "That's why I'm on stress leave!"

Crazy had never felt so good.

* * *

><p><strong>THAT'S IT FOR NOW BUT PLEASE READ THE AN BELOW **

**Okay that's it… well here is my explanation… I finally got to write because spring break started Monday and I just got the time to sit down and write. I couldn't find other time because testing is coming up and I am in the Alice in Wonderland Jr. Musical for my school also I have state competition for volleyball and I've been super busy with school because they are working us harder for state testing for High School next year. Also my grandpa just died in February so we've been pretty busy with that. I wanted to post on Sunday because it was my birthday but I just didn't find the time. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with the story I will try my hardest to get more chapters up. But school starts again tomorrow. But I will try! Just know in the summer I will get a lot more done **


	10. Chapter 9 Race Track

**Okay so I'm finally able to sit down and write. I haven't had time before because the day I got out of school we went to a resort up North for my mom's birthday and then we had a wedding and family came from all over for the wedding. Then we had parties for the whole 2 weeks they were here. And now I'm packing to go to Florida with my family to help my sister babysit her son. But now I get to write. I'll be sure you knock out a few chapters before I go and while I'm gone. I'm gonna be in Florida for about 1 ½ months so I might not get a chapter up. And I'm starting High School this year so I'm excited and nervous that I won't have time to write! Well enough rambling onto the chapter.**

**Zach: Kristina does not own the Gallagher Girls Series Ally Carter does.**

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><p><strong>RECAP:<strong>

"Cammie, I strongly advise you to think about your behavior," Josh was saying behind her, while all those curious, gossip-hungry eyes looked on.

In seconds, Zach had stowed her luggage in the tiniest trunk she'd ever seen, the jumped back behind the wheel of the rumbling car.

They were pulling away when she heard Josh shout, "Are you crazy!"

"Oh, yes," she cried out, turning to send him a goodbye wave. "That's why I'm on stress leave!"

Crazy had never felt so good.

* * *

><p>"How do you feel?" Zach glanced her way with the smile that made her stomach wobble.<p>

"Shocked." She craned her head over her shoulder and saw the bus for the airport arrive. The bus that she ought to be on. For a second she contemplated begging Zach to drive her to the airport, then she stopped herself. No. Maybe jumping into Zach's car was a little wacky, but she'd made her decision. She could slink home with her tail between her legs and spend her "stress leave" miserable, or she could do something wild, crazy and completely exciting. Right or wrong, she was giving wild and crazy a try.

"I hope I have something appropriate to wear to a car race," she said. "I've never been to one before."

"Honey, if you want one man's opinion, your underwear is a lot nicer than those clothes I saw in the suitcase. They're all the color of dirt."

"Earth tones," she corrected. "I once had my colors done. I'm a fall. We're suppose to wear the colors of autumn—green and browns and rusts," she explained.

His glance suggested that he hadn't been reminded of colorful autumn foliage when he'd looked inside her suitcase. The trouble was, she was never sure when a color was a verifiable fall-foliage tone and when it was a summer orange or a winter red. That's how she'd ended up with some many safe browns and beiges. How did she think she could handle a race car driver? She was a woman who couldn't even imagine a Color Me Beautiful clothing palate.

A mile or so passed and she saw that they were on a highway. She had no idea where they were bound. "I think I should explain that I'm not normally an impulsive person."

He glanced over and at the speed they were going, she really wished he wouldn't. He should keep both eyes on the road. And both hangs on the steering wheel. "I think you have hidden depths. Last night you were definitely impulsive."

"Yes. I suppose I was." A flicker of pride glowed inside her. "I'm not sure why I did that. It's so out of character." That made it twice in two days she'd done something completely unlike herself.

"Why did you let that little pissant treat you that way?"

"Josh?" She thought about Zach's question. "I'm not very good at standing up for myself." She sighed. "In fact, I'm terrible." She nibbled her lip and looked out the window thinking about how often she'd berated herself for the problem and yet been unable to act any differently the next time she was asked to do something that wasn't her job, or had someone break in while she was talking, or refuse to listen to her ideas.

"Maybe all you need is some practice."

"I signed up for assertiveness training last winter, but it didn't help."

Zach glanced over at her with a disturbing twinkle lurking in his eyes. "What happened? Did you fail?"

She bit her lip some more, wishing she hadn't been drawn into the subject in the first place. "I didn't go."

The twinkle in his eyes deepened. He wasn't stupid. "You were unavoidably called out of town?"

"No."

"Sick with the flu?"

"No."

"Trapped in an elevator?"

"Very funny. The truth is I was too scared to go."

"You know what I find interesting?"

She shook her head.

"You were assertive as all get-out at the wedding. Look how you handled Macey and her daddy. Maybe it's only with your own crowd that you act like a wimp."

She blinked. "I guess you're right." Then she shrugged. "I was playing a part, and since I'd given you my word that I'd act like… someone you'd be crazy about, I felt I had to present myself as much different than my normal self."

He chuckled. "Bit of self-esteem problem there, have you?"

Oh, why couldn't she just shut up?

* * *

><p><strong>ZACH'S POV<strong>

Zach pulled around a Camry with a Sunday driver at the wheel and his companion flinched. He stared at her. He wasn't one to brag, but he raced cars for a living. He had a couple of championship trophies on his mantle. If his streak of bad luck would only change, he might have a shot at the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup this year. Did she really think he couldn't handle a dry highway in the middle of a sunny May day with barely any traffic?

A few more miles went by and he managed to make her flinch several more times. It was starting to take the tedium out of the journey to watch her brake foot get a workout.

"Where are we going?" she asked him after they'd cleared Charlotte city limits and were heading south.

"The Speedway."

"Oh."

He glanced at her. "You ever watched a race?"

"Live, you mean?" She turned her face to his. "No."

"How about on TV?"

"Well, actually, no."

"You're going to be through that first-time list of yours by next week the way we're going." He thoughts of Kendall's upcoming reaction to her first race and wished he could sit beside her to see it.

"There's a lot of traffic."

"Welcome to race week."

"It takes a whole week? I thought races only ran on Sundays."

"They do, but we go pretty much form Thursday to Sunday, forty weeks a year, what with testing and qualifying heading into the big race."

Her eyes were round as she took in the crowds they passed.

"Oh." She was silent for a while and he wondered how it all struck her. The motor homes and the beaten-up pickups, the families and the loners, they hard-core fans and the locals out for their one or two races a year.

"Hey, there's you!" she suddenly cried. Sure enough, there was a flag with his picture and number on it. When they got closer and started passing the packed parking lots, she gasped. "Is that a margarita maker on the back of that truck?"

"Probably. Tailgate parties are legendary." The motor coach parks were packed, as usual, during race week. Some of the rigs were more expensive that the average house; others were old campers that had seen better days. Some fans brought along barbecues and planter pots and made a family vacation of it; other brought nothing but beer.

He got a real kick out of introducing a novice like Cammie to the sport he loved. He drove through to the infield where he knew his motor home would be parked. Now that he was here, he would stay on-site until the race was over. If he needed to get around, he'd take a golf cart. The high security gates were up and a guard was on duty.

"This is a secure area. Mostly drivers and their families stay here. We do get some race fans who pay a bunch of money for a spot in the infield. We need to get you a pass so you can come and go."

"Wow," she said looking around her with interest.

His adrenaline started pumping as it always did when he entered the Speedway. He loved this place. He loved everything about it. The steeply tiered bleachers, the track itself, the buzz in the air.

He got close to the garages before he was recognized. "Hey, Z! Hold up," a middle-aged male voice yelled, loud enough to wake the dead.

The cry soon became a repeated echo like a pneumatic drill. He tucked Cammie's hand in the crook of his left arm, told her not to let go and took out the pen he always carried in his breast pocket. Pictures, hats, scraps of paper, magazines, napkins—whatever was shoved his way he signed, keeping a smile on his face and talking to the fans as he went.

"Is that your girlfriend?" a boy about ten or eleven yelled.

His eyes met Cammie's and he shrugged. What can you do?

"She sure is, so you make room so she can breathe." Another one of his hats came over his shoulder, he signed it. "Five yards," he told Cammie in a low voice. Then they were at the garage and the guards were politely but firmly stopping the fans.

"Good luck, man," somebody shouted.

"Thanks," he said, giving a final wave and a grin caught by approximately two dozen cameras from the disposable kind to the semiprofessional film kind of the ubiquitous digital camera that would be beaming his and Cammie's pictures, along with the news that she was his girlfriends, to blogs and fan sites within minutes.

But that was part of the game and he tried to be a good sport, since those fans made the whole NASCAR thing possible.

"You okay?" he asked Cammie. She appeared shell-shocked.

"I know one in four Americans is a NASCAR fan, but you don't realize how many people that really is until they're stepping on your toes and shoving T-shirts at you to sign. Whew!"

He laughed. "Racing merchandise is big business."

He took her to his garage and introduced her to his team, some of whom she'd met last night. If they were surprised to see her looking a lot more formal today, nobody said anything about it.

Jonas Anderson, his marketing guy, was standing with Grant Newman and glanced Zach's way as he approached with Cammie at his side. "Finding your own women now Z?"

"The funny guy here is Jonas Anderson," he said to Cammie, pulling her forward within the circle of his arm.

"Pleasure to meet you, Cammie."

"Hello," she said and shook hands.

"She's going to be hanging out with me for a bit. I need you to find her a place to stay for a couple of nights." He felt the tension in Cammie's body ease suddenly. What? Did she think…? Of course, she was still in shock that she'd blown off her paid ride home and jumped in his car without a Venn diagram of his plans, their itinerary and definitely some idea of the sleeping arrangements. Poor Cammie. For such a regimented, odds-calculating woman, this impulsive spree must about be killing her. He should feel bad, but he thought a little impulsive action would be good for her. He was, in fact, doing her a favor, just like she was doing him a favor by continuing to create a big buffer between him and Macey. Hopefully, by the time Cammie went back to Chaska, Mace would have made her marriage work, or found a new astrologer.

"We put a new engine in, Z. She should be good."

He nodded and, telling Cammie to look around, soon had his head under the hood.

* * *

><p>By the time they were getting ready to head out to the track, Cammie had met everyone and toured the hauler, being shown every lug nut in the pull-out fitted cabinets and every bag of junk food in the tiny kitchen. There was something about her air of serious interest that had the crew telling her a lot more than most visitors. He figured she'd learned about everything but the actual car, so he called her over for a look.<p>

"There's no door," was the first thing she said when she approached the car, garishly painted with every one of his sponsors' logos. The main color was midnight blue, with a lot of red and orange. He thought he must look like a parakeet being shot out of a canon as he careened around the track.

"No headlights, either," he said pointing to where they were painted on.

"And no windshield wipers," Grant added trying to help. His crew chief, who'd taken a shine to Cammie, showed her the layers of see-through vinyl that would be peeled off during pit-stops. "Faster than wiping the windshield, and every fraction of a second counts during a pit stop."

"Really? How long does a pit stop take?" she asked, fingering the colored tab that peeled off the screen cover.

"We try to keep in the twelve-second range. Anything more than thirteen is unacceptable."

"Thirteen seconds?" She had that keen, focused look on her face that she seemed to get whenever talk turned to numbers. Zach leaned back and watched as Mike went through the entire pit-stop routine.

"We film the crew so we can optimize efficiency."

"I can understand why. In the end , every second counts."

Grant nodded approvingly. "Zach might tell you different, but most races are won or lost on the pit stops." He scowled, and glared around the entire garage. "And lately, we've been losing too many."

Jonas had been in the corner making calls. Zach knew he'd given him a tough task to find a place for Cammie to stay over the race with so little notice. He also knew Jonas would find something. The guy was amazing. Sure enough, by the time Cammie's eyes were beginning to glaze over from the information overload, Jonas walked up, looking pleased with himself.

"I've got her one of the condos." He pointed to the block of suites that overlooked the track. While some were available for rent, they were almost impossible to come by during race week.

"Nice work."

"Thanks. It's a corporate suite. They hosted a cocktail party there last night and the company president was going to stay over but he had to get back to Pittsburgh at last minute, so it's free. Do you want me to take Cammie over?"

He thought she might feel more comfortable with him so he said, "It's okay. I'll do it."

"Keys are at the front desk. They're expecting you."

* * *

><p><strong>CAMMIE'S POV<strong>

Cammie wondered if she was going to wake up anytime soon.

It was Saturday night. She ought to be at home in Chaska on one of her infrequent dates with Josh or more likely watching a DVD while she ironed five blouses for the upcoming workweek.

Instead, she found herself in a golf cart being driven to a condo overlooking a racetrack by a NASCAR driver who was telling anyone who would listen that she was his new girlfriend.

She found she wasn't in a big hurry to wake up.

"These places are great. You'll love the condo. Great view."

"Great view?" Her idea of a view was rolling waves on the Pacific Ocean, the Eiffel Tower in moonlight, mountain vistas. This was a square block of windows butting over an oval of dirk.

He must have caught her thoughts, because he grinned at her. "Great view of the track. You could watch the whole race from up there. Except you'll want to be hanging out with me."

"I will?"

"Yep. So the TV cameras get lots of pictures of us and those pictures are beamed straight into Macey's cockeyed brain."

"Good strategy."

"Thanks."

"I was being sarcastic."

"I'm working with what I've got. This is the best I can come up with."

She shook her head. Who was she to quibble? Her notions of strategy had won her a sideways promotion and the derision of her company's top execs.

Zach hauled her single suitcase while she followed with her carry-on bag.

The condo was gorgeous and dominated by a wall of windows that, as he'd promised, overlooked Turn One and offered a great view of the track. She could see the luxury motor homes in the infield, where she knew Zach would live while he was on the road. A moving crowd of people milled around, some sitting in the tiers of seats. There was room for more than 150,000 fans, Grant Newman had told her. Billboards advertised sponsors, and logos blazed at her even from the grass beside the track.

The condo was decorated in neutral tones, which made a soothing escape from the blaze of color action outside. A galley kitchen in white came complete with a granite breakfast bar, which opened onto a living area with a fireplace and full entertainment system.

There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Zach put her stuff in the masters, which boasted a queen-size bed and full en suite.

"Pretty nice," he said wandering to the windows and looking down on the track he'd be racing on tomorrow.

"Great view," she agreed.

He turned to her. Against the background, he looked like a colossus, king of the racing world below. He was obviously itching to get back there.

"Want some down time?" he asked.

"For my imminent nervous breakdown, that would be great."

"The kitchen should be stoked. I'll give you some numbers if you need anything. I'll come back and get you for dinner."

"Dinner?"

"A casual barbecue with some of the other drivers and their families. Throw on some jeans. You'll be fine."

Jeans? She hadn't packed jeans for a corporate convention. She'd have to make do with cream linen trousers that would no doubt look completely out of place. Oh, well. She couldn't possibly look more out of place than she'd feel.

He headed for the door, then turned. She hadn't moved. She was still standing in the middle of the cream-colored wall-to-wall carpeting in a condo overlooking Turn One of the Charlotte Speedway.

He stepped forward and squeezed her shoulder. "You're going to be fine, Cammie. You've got to trust yourself more. You're smart, decent."

She nodded, glad to be reminded that some of who she thought she was still remained. "Right." She repeated the words. "I'm smart. Decent."

He grinned at her. "And a great kisser."

* * *

><p><strong>Well that's it for now. I'm typing the next chapter already and will try to have it up by next Thursday or Friday, because on Friday or Saturday, my family and I will be driving to Florida. So review because I love it when you guys review it keeps me writing! <strong>

**Love ya lots,  
><strong>

**Kristina.**


	11. Chapter 10 Race Day!

**HOLA AND I WAS RIGHT I GOT THIS POSTED JUST IN TIME! WELL I'M ON MY WAY TO FLORIDA, AS YOU READ THIS SO I MIGHT NOW POST A CHAPTER FOR A WHILE.**

* * *

><p><strong>RECAP:<strong>

He stepped forward and squeezed her shoulder. "You're going to be fine, Cammie. You've got to trust yourself more. You're smart, decent."

She nodded, glad to be reminded that some of who she thought she was still remained. "Right." She repeated the words. "I'm smart. Decent."

He grinned at her. "And a great kisser."

* * *

><p><strong>RACE DAY:<strong>

Zach was ready. He heard the noise of the crowds, but almost as a background buss. More, he felt the energy of all the fans, excited to be here. For many, races were part of their annual vacation. They were here for the noise, the speed, the action, to cheer their favorite and take sides in on-track rivalries. Zach and forty-two other teams were here to make sure every one of those fans got his or her money's worth.

Cammie stood beside him taking it all in. Her eyes were big as they scanned the bleachers that seemed, from down here by the track, to stretch to the sky.

A TV reported wandered over to do a prerace interview. Media was as big a part of this sport as the fans and the sponsors, and Zach always tried to play nice. This one asked a lot of questions about his string or recent bad luck and wondered aloud and on camera when his streak was going to break.

"Today," he said, smiling broadly at the camera pretending, as he always did, that the lens was the face of a real fan. "Charlotte is my track." Cammie was still standing beside him and he made sure to pull her close in care Macey ended up watching this interview.

"Do you have any superstitions before a race, Zach?" the reported asked.

He thought it was a pretty stupid question, but he didn't say so. Instead , he grinned, seeing another opportunity to beam his message to his ex-wife. "I sure do. Kissing a beautiful women is about the luckiest thing I know." And with that he turned to Cammie, who'd been doing her best to hide from the glare of the camera lights, and pulled her close. Her eyes widened and he liked the way she looked up real close. He remembered how she'd felt in his arms the other night, had a feeling she remembered, too. He took his time and kissed her until the oh-no-you-don't vide melted beneath his lips.

With a cheer and a lot of wolf whistles from his team, he figured the lady reported had a pretty good sound bite and some nice visuals.

"Good luck, Zach, and thanks," she said before heading on her way.

"Good luck, Zach." Cammie echoed. Then she added, "Drive carefully."

He slid into the car with a smile on his face and the taste of her still on his lips. She had it wrong. He always drove carefully. What he needed to do was drive fast.

People often thought that all a driver needed to do was jam his foot down hard on the accelerator and hang on. In fact, Zach believed that a great driver was one who could read a car, one who was perceptive to small changes. Using restraint made him faster, which he'd had to learn when he first started racing. He'd trained himself to channel that impulse to win into a heightened awareness of what his car was trying to tell him, which he in turn would communicate to his crew chief, and they'd made adjustments during pit stops, fine-tuning as they went.

He took his place, midpack because of his less-than-spectacular qualifying results, and cleared his mind of everything but the machine surrounding him. _Talk to me, baby,_ he told the car silently. He'd probably have spoken aloud if it weren't for the tact that a whole lot of people were listening in. He only heard two voices, that of his crew chief, sitting on top of the war wagon, and that of his spotter, up high on top of the grandstands with a bird's-eye view of the course.

He settled in and prepared to do what he did best. The race began.

There was something about five hours of nonstop concentration, where it was him and the track and the sound of the other cars that put him in a zone. Everything was so clear—well, it had to be. He didn't have a lot of time to mess around.

He listened to his spotter, used his wits and his own observation to get his car as good as he could get it. "I think we might need a pressure adjustment," he told Grant, and at the next pit stop, they made small changed and he was off again in twelve and a half seconds.

The heat inside the car climbed, but he was used to that and pretty much ignored it, sipping water as needed from the built- in water system.

There were days when nothing went right and he'd known too many of those lately. Then there were days when everything settled and it was absolutely right. He'd thought he was there yesterday, and then suddenly he wasn't. Today, he had that feeling, only stronger.

There wasn't room for much idle thought, but he knew Cammie was enjoying her first day at the track and he didn't want to be towed back in, or coast in. Not today. He didn't want to think about the possibility that he was pushing himself and his vehicle to impress a girl he barely knew, but something was giving him an extra edge today.

Maybe, he thought with an inward grin, it was that kiss. That way she had of looking at him all wide-eyed as if she'd never been kissed before. She did that every time he kissed her, and it gave him a crazy thrill. He'd kissed his share women, and he never recalled one who looked at him afterward in quite that way. As if he'd given her a gift.

Crazy.

He licked his lips. They were dry. Hot. Like he was, coming into the final laps.

He was racing well, he knew that. His spotter was warning him of debris ahead, but he saw it and skirted the problem easily. It was so simple it was scary. He felt in control. Fast. Slick. Everything working together as it was supposed to, from the car's engine and parts all meshing and revving together to the team, working fast and efficiently.

His pit crew had been a dream team today. He wanted to reward them with the best possible time.

He told himself he was glad to finish at all, after yesterday's fiasco, but in truth he couldn't get there fast enough. He wanted more than a finish. He wanted a good finish. Not just for the placement in the race, but to show Cammie a good time.

Everything was humming and he felt good. "You're the fastest car on the track, Z," Grant told him.

"Awesome," he yelled back. All he had to do was repeat the process every lap.

There were half a dozen cars ahead of him; if he could hold it together, he was going to have a sweet finish.

"Go high, Zach," his spotter's voice crackled through his headset. "Looks like some trouble ahead."

What it looked like, from where Zach sat, was that somebody'd taken a sharp left without signaling. And there went the car in the number-two sport, shooting into the grass. The third-spot holder had been hanging on, riding his draft, and he got sucked right off the track, too. Zach was already climbing, coming into Turn Four. It was a decision moment. He could play it safe and guarantee a fourth-place finish or he could put the pedal to the metal and have some fun.

He thought of the mess they'd been having the last few weeks and fourth seemed like a dream come true.

Then he remembered that Cammie was out there watching. This was her first race ever, and he thought about how her lips had felt under his, and the way her eyes lit up when she wasn't calculating the interest on the retirement nest egg she wouldn't be needing for three or four decades.

The heck with it. He pressed his foot down and hung on.

His arms ached. He felt as if everything from his butt to his ears were on fire. Luckily, so was his driving.

He came out of the Turn Four close enough to the car ahead to kiss it's pretty paint job and squeak in front.

"How do you like that?" he yelled. He was sitting in third.

"How many laps?"

"Twenty-six," Grant told him. "You goin' all the way?"

Zach laughed. He gave his trademark rebel yell. That was plenty of answer.

He didn't know when his chance would come, but he knew it would and he tried to be as patient as a man can be who smell victory and knows how easily it can be snatched.

A third-place finish was good. It was fine.

It wasn't good enough today. Not nearly.

Of course, the other two gentlemen currently holding the first and second sports felt pretty much the same way. So the three of them stuck together. Even inside the car, he could feel the energy of the crowd. There'd be discussions over beers and tailgates, in the media and in the dens and the TV rooms across America about how this happened and how the other thing could have been avoided, but that would all come later. He'd be a hero or a goat depending on how he performed in the next ten or so minutes.

"I love Charlotte!" he yelled, because he felt like yelling.

"Looking good. Take it home, buddy."

And so he did. Not through any tricks or maneuver, or even superior driving, though he'd like to think it was that. In these last few laps, all he could do was drive fast and hope the tires, engine, transmission and every little piece of his car held together. And that on this particular day, the only luck coming his way would be the good kind.

He edged past the vehicle in the number-two spot and felt the glorious kick of energy in his guy. He was getting tired. His arms were approaching the rubber stage, his scalp was itchy under his helmet and his eyes felt gritty—and he loved it.

At this moment, he knew, he was truly happy.

_Hang on, baby,_ he told his car silenetly, the way he'd soothe a horse. _We're almost there._

* * *

><p><strong>CAMMIE'S POV<strong>

Cammie had half her fist in her mouth. She couldn't take her eyes off the tiny blue-and-yellow blur that was Zach's car. Her breathing was coming so fast and shallow she was amazed she didn't pass out from lack of oxygen.

She was on top of the war wagon, a big metal box that housed the tools and supplies for pit stops, on a chair that reminded her of a bar stool, right beside her Grant Newman. He'd given her a headset so she could hear the three-way conversation between Zach, Grant, and the spotter. Her heart was bumping crazily.

She smelled the hot dust, motor oil, hot dogs, and the odor of thousand of warm bodies packed together. The fans were incredible. So colorful with their T-shirts, jackets, caps, and seat cushions with their favorite drivers. They rose and cheered when the action heated up, colorful waves of bodies.

At first, she'd wanted Zach to hang near the back of the crowd of bright cars, where it seemed quieter and he was less likely to get into any pileups. But then she watched him move forward, a little at a time, fighting his way through the pack of wizzing colorful bullets and a crazy excitement filled her.

She'd never known anything like it. The speed, from this close, was too much for her eyes to focus on, so she saw blur after blur. For the first few laps, it felt like a sonic boom each time a car flew by, and she jumped in her seat until she became accustomed to the noise.

The crowd was crazy, the energy was infectious.

"Yes!" she yelled when Grant confirmed he was in second place. "Go, Zach!" she shouted so loud she'd have embarrassed herself if everybody around her wasn't yelling a whole lot louder.

By the time he'd maneuvered his way into second, she was a wreak. Her throat was sore from cheering, her palms were damp and her entire body was keyed up. When she'd learned that this race took more than five hours, with each team making able twelve pit stops, she'd imagined she'd be bored stiff. But she was having possibly the most exciting day of her life.

Now there were only minutes to go and she didn't think she could take any more. Still, her eyes stayed riveted on the contest between two front-running drivers. Zach pulled ahead and then the other did, and then it was Zach again. Suddenly there was a huge cheer and she realized the race was over.

"Who won?" she asked frantically, but there was so much noise and activity that nobody heard her.

Then Zach's car kept going, and he was driving into the middle of the pristine lawn and making a big mess of it by turning his car in circles. Nobody seemed to mind.

That's when she knew he'd won the race.

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><p><strong>ZACH'S POV<strong>

Zach couldn't believe it.

They'd won.

In eight weeks he hadn't come closer than a tenth-place finish, but today it was as if the black cloud had blown away. A curse lifted. His bad luck routed.

Nothing was different. The team was the same, he was the same, the stock car was one of the two that had given him problems for weeks. Why today?

He gazed out at the crowd, at the TV cameras running for him, the crew and anybody who could get close, and he remembered that moment when he'd stated before a television reporter and her camera that kissing a pretty women was his good luck superstition.

It had been a foolish piece of bravado, not said seriously, not meant to be taken that way, and yet… look what had happened

He'd kissed Cammie Morgan and his team won a race.

Zach wasn't a big believer in good-luck charms.

He wasn't a fool, either.

You didn't throw good luck away.

He hauled himself out of his car and looked into a sea of people, looking for his four-leafed clover.

And there she was, beside Grant Newman, shading her eyes with his hand and looking his way. He still had his mic on, so he yelled into it to whomever was still plugged in, "Bring Cammie, will you?"

His crew chief turned and grabbed Cammie's arm and started dragging her forward. She didn't need a lot of persuading; she ran toward him. She squeaked a little bit when Zach picked her up and swung her around, high in the air, but her eyes were dancing with excitement.

"Play along with me for the camera, okay, honey?" he whispered.

She nodded, obviously having no clue what he was up to.

He let out a rebel yell, and then he kissed her.

Maybe she was more media savvy than he'd guessed, because this time she helped. She threw her arms around him and kissed him back.

She smelled a lot better than the inside of a stock car, tasted better than the cold beer he was looking forward to cracking. She tasted, he though as he smiled against her lips, like luck.

Then he pulled away, keeping an arm around her waist since he knew Macey had to be around here somewhere, and if she wasn't she'd be seeing him on TV with his new girlfriend.

Maybe that would be enough to get the women finally headed off on her honeymoon.

His PR guy passed him a ball cap with one of his sponsor's logos on, and then a few microphones were stuck in his general direction.

His answered the usual questions, described some of the critical moments of the race as he remember them, and then the gal who'd interviewed him prerace asked, "So, Zach, introduce us to your good luck charm."

She was a nice lady, and she always tried to go easy him, so he felt he owed her, but he hadn't expected to have to introduce Cammie on without talk to her about it first.

"This is Cammie," he said finally.

To his astonishment, instead of directing the next question to him, the TV lady said, "Cammie do you think you helped Zach win the race today?"

He gave Cammie's waist a tiny squeeze, hoping she'd take the hint.

She turned his way and those cool blue grey eyes looked brimful of mischief. "I think every fan who cheered Zach on today helped him with that race."

Good for her. His PR guy couldn't have scripted anything that would have sounded better. In fact, he'd have thrown something in there about that sponsors, and as much as Zach appreciated his sponsors, he liked that Cammie had complimented his fans.

"Do you think your kiss before the race helped?"

Cammie glanced at him again. She seemed to hesitate a second, and he knew she wasn't one for blowing her own horn. In fact, he doubted she even knew how pretty she was and how much he'd enjoyed those kisses. Then she smiled wider. "Absolutely."

"Where did you and Zach meet?"

She hesitated and he knew she picturing, as vividly as he was, the way she'd walked into his hotel room by mistake dressed pretty skimpily. Cammie was the kind of honest women who would have trouble telling the whitest of white lies, so he leaned in and said, "We met through mutual friends."

He kept Cammie with him as he did post-race interviews and photos, autographs and backslapping.

"Hey, Nick," he said, as the younger driver strode up, deep-set blue eyes twinkling about a big grin.

"Nice job, Z. I like you good-luck charm, here. Hi, Cammie."

She seemed pretty happy to see a familiar face, but then he thought his buddy had that kind of smile that made women smile back and a charm much older than his years. In the movies of Nick Edward's life, Matt Damon would play him.

"I liked your victory kissing."

"Can't manage those backflips of yours," Zach said.

"A man doesn't like to be predictable," he said, turning his attention to Cammie. "Anything you want to bring me some luck…" He was enjoying himself so much a dimple appeared.

"You find your own girl to kiss," Zach said.

"I'll try," he said and walked away with a wave.

"Somehow, I don't know he's going to have any trouble."

Zach laughed, "You're right about that."

"Still, he sure seems like a nice guy. I'd like to help any friend of yours."

"Don't even think about it. On the track, the only guy you kiss is me."

He looked so fierce and seemed so serious about the whole luck think that she kept her stowed.

"I see. What about off the track?" She had o idea what she thought she was starting here, but the way he was gazing at her made her wish she'd kept her mouth shut. He was staring at her mouth, and the expression in his eyes could only be termed possessive. "What would it take to get an exclusive contract with those lips for the entire season?"

Cammie had never been much for flirting, but there was something about this whole NASCAR thing that was turning her into a completely different women. So she licked those lips he was staring at. "And exclusive contract on these lips?"

"That's right."

"For a whole season?"

The head around her wasn't coming entirely from the sun. She felt overwarm and reminded herself too late that she was toying with a man who'd been voted on of _People_ magazine's hottest 50 bachelors. Her most exciting media appearance had been when her picture appeared in the company newsletter as Employee of the Month.

However, she thought, as she settled a ball cap with Zach's picture and car number on it more firmly on her head, she was a fast learned. She sent him a saucy look. "I'll get back to you on that."

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><p><strong>WELL THAT'S IT! I'LL TRY TO WRITE AS SOON AS I CAN, BUT I'M GOING TO BE VACATIONING IN FLORIDA FOR A MONTH AND A HALF AND MIGHT NOT HAVE TIME TO WRITE. BUT I LOVE YOU GUYS AND LOVE WHEN YOU REIVEW THEY MAKE MY DAY!<strong>

**REMEMBER DON'T OWN THE GALLAGER GIRLS.**

**~KRISTINA**


	12. Chapter 11 New Look

**Hey guys… I know it's been a while probably 5 months. Well I can explain. I had this chapter done already but I friends decided to go on my computer and delete the chapters I've already typed so I got really mad at them, since they didn't realize that I didn't back up any of the chapters. Also High School started and I am ready to drop dead. If you have any questions on why I was gone for so long just PM me. I'm going to try and type more chapters today so I can post them like crazy. **

**Thanks for everyone who has stuck with me 3 **

**I do not own the Gallagher Girls Series *tear***

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><p><strong>Review:<strong>

Cammie had never been much for flirting, but there was something about this whole NASCAR thing that was turning her into a completely different women. So she licked those lips he was staring at. "And exclusive contract on these lips?"

"That's right."

"For a whole season?"

The head around her wasn't coming entirely from the sun. She felt overwarm and reminded herself too late that she was toying with a man who'd been voted on of _People_ magazine's hottest 50 bachelors. Her most exciting media appearance had been when her picture appeared in the company newsletter as Employee of the Month.

However, she thought, as she settled a ball cap with Zach's picture and car number on it more firmly on her head, she was a fast learned. She sent him a saucy look. "I'll get back to you on that."

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><p><strong>ZACH'S POV<strong>

"I could kiss her myself," Joe Solomon, his PR guys, said when Zach introduced them after the race. "She's a natural in front of the camera. Did you see how often the kiss got broadcast and how much fun the sportscasters are having with this?"

"Yep." And the added bonus to all this coverage was knowing that it should be speeding Macey on her honeymoon.

"I can't believe you never brought her to a race before."

"I told you, we just met."

They were hanging out in his motor home enjoying a cold drink and the sweet feeling of victory. Joe said to Cammie, "But you're sticking around for a while, right?"

"For a while, yeah."

"Great. Excellent." He rubbed his hands. "I'm not sure if this thing has legs, but let's see what happens."

What he meant was that Zach's luck needed to stay changed before anybody was going to believe that one kiss from one pretty woman had worked magic.

Zach wasn't thinking about whether it was a fluke or coincidence, or if Cammie was an angel sent to Earth for a sole purpose of helping him win the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Championship. For one evening, he was kicking back and savoring the fact that his team had won.

"One race at a time, buddy."

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><p><strong>CAMMIE'S POV<strong>

And then he won again at Dover, finished second at Pocono and held the lead for most of the day at Michigan.

By then he was convinced, his team was convinced, his sponsors were convinced and his fans were convinced.

Cammie Morgan was his lucky charm.

Every time he kissed Cammie before a race, he got a kind of buzz, like a shot of energy that infused him. It seemed to affect his car, too—she was running like a dream. His pit stops were short. He was driving at the top of his ability. Life was amazing.

Of course, there were always subtle adjustments to keep things humming, and there was one obvious correction that needed to be made.

After Michigan, he was booked for a charity golf tournament in Miami. He and Cammie and Joe flew down together and while there he made a change that he thought Cammie, being a woman, would jump all over.

He should have remembered that Cammie rarely reacted the way he expected her to.

"What do you mean you hired me a personal shopper?" Cammie asked when he told her the news, looking deeply offended.

"Gallagher Girl," a nickname he used for her since he found out she went to Gallagher Academy when they played twenty questions. "You're my lucky charm. Joe loves that they're making us into the latest cute couple. You can't be the other half of my cute couple and wear business clothes all the time."

She looked at him, but didn't respond. She was neat as always in a trim skirt the color of compost and a blouse the color of a mushroom he wouldn't trust eating.

"I need you to wear brighter colors, things that look better on TV."

"That show more skin," she said and sniffed. Deciding that if she was suppose to look like a frivolous person, she might as well start acting like one.

Zach's smile was slow and made her feel like an ice cream cone that had ventured too close to the sun. "I didn't say that. NASCAR's a family sport. All I'm asking is that we find you some outfits that are more colorful, more relaxed for the TV."

"Doesn't it bother you that from a handful of on-camera kisses, you and I are suddenly being talked about like we're a big romance?"

"Are you kidding me? If everyone in the NASCAR Series thinks you're my woman, maybe Macey will finally get it through her head that she is married to another man." He looked at her with a crease between his eyebrows. "Why? Does it bother you if everybody thinks we're an item?"

"Bother me? Why should it bother me?"

They were in a luxury townhome that the three of them would be sharing for the two nights they were here. Today had been crazy. They'd breakfast with some old friends of Zach's, Catherine and David. Catherine had soft blond hair and pretty green eyes, and the way her husband looked at her, Cammie could tell they were newlyweds.

After breakfast there'd been a promotional event to attend and there'd been o question that Cammie would go along. In a very short time, Cammie had come to be as much a part of the team as the jackman or the hauler driver. It was exciting and flattering, and she was having more fun than she could have imagined. She was also more relaxed. Maybe she needed this stress leave.

Of course she didn't believe in luck, but so long as she was perceived as bringing it, she was having a blast. For once in her life she was in the spotlight, part of the In Crowd, and it did her battered ego good.

"I was thinking about the folks back home," Zach said.

"I don't want to hurt your feelings, but nobody I know watches NASCAR."

He didn't look a bit offended. In fact, he chuckled. "Honey, I will offer you a money-back guarantee that everybody you know in Chaska, Minnesota, is going to be hearing about this. Racing news has a funny way of going mainstream."

It didn't matter to her if he thought his racing news was a bigger deal than it was. And it was sweet of him to worry about her reputation. Then, the very idea of Josh, Mr. You're Not Exciting Enough, seeing her on TV being kissed by one of NASCAR's finest was all she needed to immediately agree to Zach's proclamation that she needed new clothes.

"Okay," she said imagining Josh and pregnant Dee Dee seeing her living life in the fast lane. "I'll get some new clothes. But I am buying them myself."

"Cammie, you don't want to waste good money on clothes that I need you to wear."

"I won't spend a lot of money," she assured him. "I'm very good at finding treasures on the sales racks."

But he was shaking his head. "Bex is from around these parts, and I'm telling you right now that people talk. And talk spreads and the next thing you know, everyone is saying, 'That Zach, he sure doesn't treat his woman right. What's she doing shopping at the discount store? By the way, where's all his money?'" He threw his hands up in the air like a Bible-thumping preacher. "Drugs? Gambling? Blackmail? Next thing you know, the tabloids are taking a little, itty-bitty bit of dirt and turning it into a mudslide."

She was opening and closing her mouth as if she wanted to say something so he kept on talking, figuring the longer she had to get used to the idea, the less mad she was going to be. He didn't want her buying clothes with her own money, not with her being demoted from her job, and him having more money than he knew what to do with.

"But—"

"I've got my reputation to think of, and it's not just me, it's my team. It's Grant and Joe and the rest. You wouldn't want them being bothered by a bunch of paparazzi all because you didn't like the high-handed way I hired you shopped who knows this town a slight bit better than you or I know it, now would you?"

"But it's chauvinistic for you to buy my clothes."

He tried another tack. "Look, you're doing me a favor. I'd really like it if you'd let me pay for a few clothes that will help you do that favor better."

Indecision was written all over her face. "It feels strange having a man buy my clothes."

"I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important to the whole team. We've got a great streak happening, and Joe thinks we can get a lot of mileage out of this kissing thing. More airtime for me makes my sponsors real happy." He grimaced. "The way I've been racing lately, anything I can do to make them happy I aim to do. If I win, my whole team gets a bonus. Seems only fair you should get one, too."

"But I didn't change tires or pump gas or—"

"Doesn't matter. You definitely brought something to the team. Those kisses help us win."

It was the most ridiculous notion in the world that one kiss from her would change anything. She was an actuary. She dealt in probability and statistics, not luck. And yet, there was something intoxicating about a man like Zach believing she, boring, mousy, not-exciting-enough- for- Josh- Abrams Cammie Morgan could help him win a race. Today, probability and statistics were banished. Today, she would believe in luck, and maybe a little bit in magic.

She'd snuck a peek at those pictures of her and Zach on big-screen TVs everywhere. He was right, of course; her earth tones wardrobe was perfectly appropriate for her professional life. As the wardrobe of a NASCAR good-luck charm kissing, her clothes definitely lacked style.

"Well, when you put it that way." She glanced at him and said, "All right. I accept."

"Thanks. Be nice to Bex."

"I'm always nice," she informed him.

"Oh an buy something sexy for the dinner tomorrow night after the golf."

"But you said NASCAR is a family sport."

"It is. Tomorrow night, my ex-wife and her poor sap of a husband are joining us for dinner."

"What?"

"That's pretty much what I said when I heard. As Macey pointed out, they bought tickets to help support charity."

"Hah. Ruining my life is not a charity event."

He sent her the grin that transformed his tough-guy scar into a crescent moon. "So, you'll buy something dead sexy for tomorrow?"

"I hope your credit card doesn't have a limit."

"That's the go-to spirit I was looking for."

The personal shopper was five-foot-tall whirlwind of big, curly dark brown hair, incessant gum-chewing mouth and clothing that had Cammie suspecting the woman needed to rethink her career.

Bex was in mid- to late twenties, and her clothing would have looked trashy even without the excess jewelry. She jingled with big earring, big bracelets and a big chain belt around her hips, as though she could enhanced her small stature with huge accessories.

Bex took one look at Cammie's face and burst out laughing. "Don't worry, I get that stunned look all the time. I was brought up in a convent and ever since I got out, I crave color. I won't make you dress like me. But, honey, if you don't mind me saying so, a little color wouldn't hurt you, either. Looks better on TV. Of course, the way Zach looks at you, I don't think he notices what you're wearing."

She waved a slim hand and long pistachio-colored fingernails flashed. Cammie stood there amazed and unable to think of a single thing to say.

Her companion laughed again. "Oh, you'll get used to me. I'm a very oral person. I talk to much. I know it. Can't help it at all." She dug a stick of gum out of a fuchsia purse hanging from a chain. "I'm giving up smoking. The gum's suppose to help, but it just makes me hungry. Chew, chew, chew and you never feel satisfied. So, what colors do you like?"

Good. Now they were getting somewhere. "I had my colors done several years ago. I'm a fall."

Bex made a tsking sound through her gum. "I don't believe in that stuff. What if you like black? You're never supposed to wear black because you're a fall. Besides, Zach was very specific. He wants you in bright colors. He knows what he likes."

"But I'm the one who has to wear these clothes," she reminded the women, trying very hard not to snarl.

"Sure you do. The trick is to find fabulous things that make everybody happy. Well? What are we waiting for? My car's out front."

As Cammie had feared, Bex drove the way she talked, erratically and too fast. Miraculously, they arrived at an upscale shopping district unscathed, and Bex led her straight into a store she'd have passed by on her own.

"I think this shop is for young people."

"What are you? The wreak of the Hatteras?"

"Hesperus," Cammie said quietly. Maybe if she kept talking in a soft voice, Bex would catch on and do it too.

"Whatever."

The small women disappeared into a swirl of colored garments and Cammie found herself following. She wasn't going to buy anything she wouldn't have purchased if alone, she reminded herself.

But there was something downright cunning about Bex. She's flit and chatter and pick words at random, so Cammie was so busy trying to follow her conversation that she found herself being pushed into change rooms with clothes she didn't want and then felt rude not to try them on.

In less than an hour, she knew she'd met her match. Luckily, she was also smart enough to know that she was in the company of a genius. Clothes she would have passed by without a second glance looked much better on her than anything she'd have chosen for herself.

In fact, she became quite enthusiastic as she trailed her fashion mentor's wake. When she went so far as to ask to see a chucky, beaded turquoise necklace because she thought it matched one of the tops they'd bought, Bex gave her a big smile and patted her arm. "You're catching on, hon."

When they returned to the townhouse loaded down with bags, they got a little giggly. Everything was colorful, fun, trendy, and stylish. While her dress for tomorrow's dinner wasn't sexy so much as romantic, in pale primrose with a drapey skirt and a fitted bodice, it made the most of her subtle curves.

Bex said, "Normally, I'd purge your closet at this point, but…" She waved her arms around the impersonal townhome. Foreseeing something like this might happen, Cammie had hidden her overnighter in her bedroom closet.

"I can at least purge that," she said, pointing to the suit Cammie was still wearing. "Then we'll have a drink to celebrate."

"But I—"

"Go on, you look so cute in your new makeup." They'd stopped for a makeover at the MAC counter and now Cammie has her own suitcase of stuff and pictures and instructions on how to use it. She had a paint-by-number face.

"What should I put on?"

"Are you going anywhere tonight?"

"I'm not sure." She'd been so focused on tomorrow, she wasn't certain if any plans had been made for tonight.

"That darling coral sundress with the lace-up sandals is good for pretty much anything."

"Okay." She crossed to the bathroom, dug through bags until she found everything, then pulled on the dress that made her think of citrus fruit. That makeup did make her look brighter and more alive, and somehow younger. Or maybe that was just the excitement of adventure, for whatever she was doing—and she didn't like to think about it too carefully or she felt queasy—this was definitely an adventure.

The only thing that was the same was her hair. She turned her head this way and that watching the brown curls glow in the bathroom light, "Should I get my hair cut?" she yelled through the door.

"No!" came the answer. And it wasn't Bex who answered. It was Zach.

Okay, deep breath, quench foolish flutters. She felt girlish and flirty, and that was so unlike her that she wanted to scramble back into her safe suit. Except that Bex had come in and whisked it away almost as though she'd guessed this might happen.

Well, he was going to see her sometime; she might as well get it over with. She opened the door to two staring faces.

"Oh, honey, you make me proud," said Bex, beaming at her as though she were her daughter trying on a bridal gown.

Zach didn't say anything. He gave a wolf whistle.

Cammie wasn't a troll. She got whistled at by the usual construction guys and drunks on street corners, but she'd never, ever received a wolf whistle from an actual red-blooded, hot, womanizing wolf.

So maybe a little shopping once in a while wasn't such a bad thing.

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><p><strong>That's it everyone. I will try and write more. I am in a hurry so I had to wrap this up. I will try and have the next chapter up in the next two weeks but I don't know if I can with school and sports. <strong>

**Please review they brighten up my day :D **

**~Kristina**


	13. Chapter 12 Love?

**Hi. So I'm not going to say anything about why I haven't posted till the end…because it will be a kind of long one, but not onto the story.**

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><p><strong>Previously on Falling Into Place<strong>

"No!" came the answer. And it wasn't Bex who answered. It was Zach.

Okay, deep breath, quench foolish flutters. She felt girlish and flirty, and that was so unlike her that she wanted to scramble back into her safe suit. Except that Bex had come in and whisked it away almost as though she'd guessed this might happen.

Well, he was going to see her sometime; she might as well get it over with. She opened the door to two staring faces.

"Oh, honey, you make me proud," said Bex, beaming at her as though she were her daughter trying on a bridal gown.

Zach didn't say anything. He gave a wolf whistle.

Cammie wasn't a troll. She got whistled at by the usual construction guys and drunks on street corners, but she'd never, ever received a wolf whistle from an actual red-blooded, hot, womanizing wolf.

So maybe a little shopping once in a while wasn't such a bad thing.

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><p>"Want to come with me later when I'm putting suntan lotion on some gals in bikinis?" Zach asked.<p>

They were back in Florida getting ready for the next race in Daytona. She was starting to get used to the routine, the village of motor homes where she and Zach stayed for a few days over the race, where she appeared in public as his girlfriend with the lucky lips while in private they'd become friends.

At the expression on her face, he grinned. "I swear it wasn't my idea. It's an ad for one of my sponsors and I would take it as a real favor if you would come with me."

"You don't want to be alone with all those barely dressed models?"

He shook his head. "Just come with me."

She knew now that he liked having her around sometimes as a buffer between him and the outside world, sometimes as his Sorry I'm Taken sign. "Okay."

"Thanks. I'm heading down to the garage. See you after practice. We'll do the ad, and then be back here for dinner?"

"Sure." They often ended up having barbecues or simply hanging out with other drivers, their wives and families. She always enjoyed watching Zach with the kids. He probably spent more time with the youngsters than he did with the adults.

They were all on the road together so much that friendships formed. It was like a club or an extended family, and Cammie found herself becoming an accepted member of the club. No one questioned whether she was really Zach's girlfriend, and she couldn't exactly explain that situation, so she kept up the pretense and was grateful to have the other wives and girlfriends to talk to.

These were the women who understood this world and who could help her handle media or aggressive fans and, whether they realized it or not, they gave her insight into what made a driver tick, something she was desperately trying to figure out.

Sometimes she would daydream that she really did belong, but that was crazy thinking, so she'd mentally slapped herself as she hoped Zach's winning streak continued so she had a reason to stay.

Her twelve weeks of stress leave were halfway over. As a cure for stress, joining the NASCAR circuit probably wasn't the most common prescription, but if the idea of stress leave was to get her mind off her job and the messy love triangle of her, Josh, and Dee Dee, then NASCAR had cured her.

She barely thought of Josh expect with mild distaste and she didn't think of her job at all. In six weeks she had to report to her new position as the assistant branch manager of a storefront insurance agency in Burnsville. Her interim position as Zach's good-luck charm was vastly more amusing and with a much better wardrobe.

She'd become comfortable with her new clothes and found that she liked the sunny colors and casual outfits. Her emergency calls to Bex were down to one a week, tops, as she gained confidence in her own choices.

Zach's luck was holding, as was the myth of the cute couple they made.

"Zach?" she said, just before he stepped out.

"Uh-huh?" He paused in the act of shoving one of his endless ball caps on his head.

"Is Macey going to be at the race?"

"She has a condo here. What do you think?"

She rolled her eyes and immediately replanned what she'd wear tomorrow. She had no idea what Zach's ex thought she was up to. Their so-called-and never-ending-honeymoon had mostly been spent as far was Cammie could tell, in popping down to Daytona Beach were Macey's family owned a condo, every time Zach was anywhere near the place.

The charity golf tournament dinner had been a nightmare as Zach held Cammie against him like a shield. Macey had alternately pouted at, flirted with and charmed Zach, while blowing hot and cold on her husband until Cammie ended up with a tension headache.

Not even the prettiest dress she'd ever owned and a couple of dreamy slow dances with Zach had saved the evening from becoming a painful memory.

She watched Zach run his morning practice and only bit through on fingernail.

When he pulled in, he climbed out the window, the same way he'd entered the car. She still wasn't used to cars with no door, stick on decals for headlights or peel-off wrap instead of windshield wipers. It was just plain weird.

Zach walked up to Grant Newman and they talked technical, so the few worlds she caught made no sense. However, Grant soon had a couple of the guys on the team fiddling with the engine while Zach got ready for qualifying.

She wasn't sure if he'd kiss her, since it was, first, a qualifier and second, no media were near. He seemed to hesitate. She felt the eyes of the entire crew on them, and she thought that was what made him move towards her and smack her soundly on the lips. The feeling of relief from the crew was palpable. Amazing. They actually believed the flawed kiss-equals-good-luck equation.

Zach was the fifth fastest time of the forty-three drivers who'd compete tomorrow. That put him in the front group and he seemed pretty jazzed about that. "You always bring me good luck," he said. "Thanks."

She was ready to leave the dirt and oil smells and the noise of the racetrack, but of course their day wasn't over.

Jonas appeared and bundled Zach and her into a limo. They drove to where one of Zach's sponsors, a suntan, lotion, had organized the photo shoot for an ad. Zach was placed in front of one of his cars, with half dozen models all in bikinis. Zach's job was to spread suntan lotion on the women.

He didn't seem to mind time he was putting in at the office at all.

After she'd watched him slather a ridiculous amount of lotion on a ridiculous amount of nubile skin, they were finally allowed to leave. She saw one of the girls whisper in his ear, an obvious invitation. Zach pulled his I'm-too-sexy-for-car act and pocketed a slip of paper the model handed him.

Oh, great.

"I hope I didn't spoil your fun," she said, when they were loaded back in the limo.

"Not at all. Those girls wanted to go party, but I explained you and I already plans."

"They were jailbait, anyway." She wanted to get a few things straight, but not with Joe listening to every wood. Besides, she didn't get a chance. Zach's cell phone went off.

She knew it was Macey the minute he started talking. She spent most of the limo ride talking to Jonas and resisting the urge to bash Zach with the bottle of suntan lotion she'd been given.

Macey and Preston showed up at the race the next day, as Cammie had known they would, but Macey was surprisingly low-key for once. Cammie worse a pretty apricot-colored gauzy sundress and put extra effort into kissing Zach both before and especially after he place third.

Amazingly, the ex-wife didn't even try to get the four of them out for dinner together or some other horrendous double date, perhaps because she sensed Cammie would make up an excuse not to go.

She was congratulating herself on Zach ease out of his ex-wife's clutches when he told her he'd be staying an extra day in Daytona Beach. Zach had agreed to visit the children's ward of a local hospital. The visit wasn't on his schedule, she knew, since she kept a copy of his itinerary on her laptop computer. It helped her feel organized and have some structure to her life to look ahead at events she'd take part in.

The next morning, they set off in a car he'd borrowed from a local dealership. She wondered if his driving it for a day would up the sticker price. It was nice, driving alone with Zach. There was no Jonas from marketing, no Joe from PR; it was only the two of them, which was rare, she realized. Then she made the mistake of flanking at the speedometer.

"I've never been to Florida before this year," she said, for something to say, to keep her mind off the face that he was driving much too fast in her opinion. "It's beautiful."

He shot her a glance and she bit her tongue to prevent herself from snapping at him to keep his eyes on the road. "The tourism people will be real happy to head that."

Not only did his eyes move from what they should be doing, but now his hand joined in leaving the steering wheel to land on her knee, warm and heavy. His fingers toyed with the hem of her flowered summer dress and moved against her skin. He did that sometimes, touched her in a way that was both friendly and something more. However, she was starting to see through his tricks to understand that he used his warmth and undeniable charm for his own ends. "You're trying to distract me," she said.

"From what?" He sounded all innocent, but the scar was changing shape, from an L to a C, always a sign that he was amused and trying not to show it.

"From the fact that you're doing sixty-four in a fifty-five-mile zone."

"You know how fast I was going when I won at Talladega?"

She started to remind him that this wasn't a controlled racetrack but her insatiable love of numbers got in the way. "How fast?"

"Average speed was one-eighty-four miles an hour and change."

She glanced at the speedometer again. "I can't even imagine how fast that is. What's it like?"

He played with the hem of her dress absently while he thought, and she tried to ignore the sensation of warmth fluttering through her. "When you go that fast, the noises of the tires on the road surface are like high-pitched whine. The g-force sucks you into the seat and it's hot. Like sitting on top of a furnace."

"Wow."

"There's no room to think of anything. I'm working with the car. Reading it's signals, talking to Grant. Working our strategy."

"Is it noisy?" She thought about how she'd felt the physical impact of all that noise the first time she'd seen a race. The fans, the cars, the booming microphones.

"I don't notice the noise. Sometimes I get out of the car and hear all those fans yelling, and I'm a little bit surprised I'd almost forgotten they were there."

"That's some focus."

He nodded not speaking.

Another couple of miles rolled by. "Why do you do it?" she asked suddenly.

"Do what? Tease you? Because you're so uptight, it's the—"

"No. Not that. Racing. Why do you race?"

He glanced over. "You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"Is this going to end up in you telling me I'm eleven point four times more likely to be involved in a car crash than a person who stays in their basement watching televised bowling? Because I have to tell you, that is getting old."

"No, I'm—"

"Has it occurred to you that you are eleven point four times more likely to get into trouble hanging around with me than if you'd gone home to your regular life?"

"Oh, yes. That has definitely occurred to me." The funny thing was that she couldn't seem to care. Of course her time with Zach was short she was on holiday from her own life, like any holiday it would end, hopefully with no regrets and some pleasant memories.

The wind whipped through her hair and she tipped her face up to the sun. Zach turned up the CD player for a song he liked. The music was too loud and the increased volume wasn't making her change her mind about country music, but it kept right on wailing whether she minded or not.

"You want to know why I race," he said at last, shouting above the music.

"Yes." She hadn't thought he'd answer and was content to let it go, but she was curious as to what he'd say.

"I like the rush. I like the speed. I like the challenge."

"And you like the attention from the fans," she added.

He shot her a crooked smirk. "I didn't say that."

She wrinkled her nose in thought, recalling the races she'd seen so far. "What about the crowds, the women, the…adulation?"

He looked right at her. "The women are nice. Definitely."

Even thought she wasn't in the league of some of the women she'd seen hanging around the drivers, she appreciated the flattery. It wasn't as though she'd received so much of it in her life that it was tedious.

However, watching him take numbers from models and chat to his ex was starting to get on her nerves.

She reached forward and turned down the music.

"Uh-oh," he said.

"I wanted to…um…talk about something."

"The kissing thing?"

Persistence, she reminded herself. In interpersonal communication, persistence was often required to ensure her message was correctly received. "Well, that's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You didn't like the kiss yesterday? Or were you disappointed we only came in third? Honey, I have to tell you, the luck is holding. I can't win every race, but our team is doing better than we've done all season. You really are our lucky charm."

"You don't seriously believe that."

"I believe the results speak for themselves."

"The thing is, I thought our time together would end sooner, that the good-luck thing wouldn't hold up."

All amusement was gone from his face. She even felt the car slow as though the gravity of the situation was communicating itself to the engine. "What are you saying?"

"Everyone things I'm really your girlfriend."

"Right. Which was out plan. So?"

"Maybe this is crazy. I know I'm only your pretend girlfriend, but I'd appreciate fidelity."

"I'm not sure I follow you, Gallagher girl. All we do is a little kissing thing."

She felt foolish but she was a woman of strong morals, and even in a pretend relationship it was important for her to believe in her man. "I know. But if you are seen with other women, it makes me look foolish." She said shrugging in defeat.

"So now you're asking for an exclusive on my lips."

She gaped at him and caught the crinkle around his eyes that told her he was teasing her again.

"Oh, just forget I ever spoke," she snapped and turned up the volume on the car's CD player.

With a click the music was silenced completely, and the car made a neat little _S_. Suddenly they were pulled over into a picnic area.

Zach opened his door and got out, strolling over to check out the graffiti on a picnic table. She got out and stretched her back, then walked over to join him.

"You want a drink?" he asked, heading for a soda machine.

"Thanks. Sparkling water or juice if there is any."

He fed coins into the machine and came over with a couple of cans passing her one.

Her stomach felt jumpy and she wondered if the greatest adventure of her life was about to end. She probably should have kept her mouth shut, but she knew she couldn't do that. She needed to be honest and she needed to keep her dignity, whatever the cost.

"Here's the thing," he said, looking at the table rather than her. "I asked you to help me out of a jam and you did. I asked you to act like you were crazy about me and you did that too."

She nodded slowly glancing at him.

"Now we've worked so hard to convince Macey that we're an item, I'd be crazy to go out with other women, right?"

"I suppose. If she was going to find out."

"Oh, she'd find out. You don't know Macey. She still has friends who are married to or girlfriends of the guys. They fill her in on everything."

"I saw you take that model's phone number, after the ad shoot."

He made an embarrassed face. "It was a reflex. I didn't want to hurt her feeling, so I took it. You didn't see me throw the paper away later."

"No. But the point is you took it, which made me feel slighted."

"Gallagher girl, I'm sorry. I wasn't going to phone that girl, and there was nowhere to put that paper if I gave it back to her."

"There was quite a bit of room in her bra cup. At least a D's worth."

"I should have thought about your feelings. You're right. But believe me, I'm not going to date anyone while you're around."

"You won't date anyone else so that Macey doesn't find out?" And her confidence was at an all-time high.

"No. That's one reason. I also heard what you said. You don't want to share."

"Right."

"I respect that. I don't want to share you, either."

"You don't?"

He gazed at her over his drink can, eyes narrowed against the sun.

She felt a huge sense of relief, but didn't seem to be having the same reaction to their little talk. In fact, she realized when he finished drinking that he wasn't done talking.

"I didn't make any promises, Cammie, and I won't be making any."

"Promises?" What promises?

"You're a nice woman. You also seem like the kind who wants to settle down and have a few kids in the near future so you can calculate the offs that they get into med school or Yale, or that they'll break their arm if they take up softball. Am I right?"

She decided to ignore his animadversions on her professional background. "I do plan to get married someday and hope to raise a family. Yes."

"Just so we're both clear on that, I'm not your guy."

She was so surprised she chocked on her juice, and then got caught between a laugh and a cough so that it gurgled up into her nose and burned. "Ow, ow," she cried, digging in her bag for a tissue.

He slapped her on the back, nearly knocking her out. "You okay?"

She nodded and waved him back. When she had blown her nose and composed herself, she started at him.

"You think I would want to marry you?"

He blinked at her as though she'd asked the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "I'd prefer you didn't, but just for the record what is so hysterically funny about the idea."

She smiled at him, a big, happy sunbeam of a smile that showed all her teeth. "You are exactly what I need right now and I will always be grateful that you told me to jump into your car in Charlotte. I love being your good-luck charm and I can probably get used to the noise and the smell of the racetrack, given time, but there's no long-term for us. There couldn't be."

"Right. Right. That's what I'm saying." He kicked some gravel around with his feet. "I know why I think that, but why do you?"

She gaped at him. "Zach, you would be a terrible husband and father." Realizing how rude that sounded, she hastily added, "For me, I mean. You're so restless and on the road so much. I'm looking for a family man."

"So, I'm an unacceptable risk as a husband and father, that's what you're saying?"

Glad he understood her so well, she said, "Yes."

"You've calculated it all out with a calculator and a spreadsheet. I'm good enough for a few kisses and some laughs."

"Exactly. A monogamous pretend relationship."

"Well, Gallagher girl, it looks like we've got a deal, because we both want the same thing, and we're both agreed I'd make a lousy dad."

There was a note of bitterness that broke through his cheerful tone and caused her brow to furrow. Something was going on here that she didn't understand. "I'm sure you'd make a wonderful father." She thought of all the times he'd spent an extra minute with one of his younger fans, and how all the kids of the others drivers treated him like a favorite big brother. He always had time to kick a football around or joke or talk sports. "I didn't mean—"

He tossed his drink can into the recycling container and started walking back to his car. "Let's go."

As they continued the drive, she was desperate to change the subject. "How are you going to entertain a bunch of sick kids? Some of whom, I hate to tell you, might not be racing fans."

"I have hidden talents, my friend."

"Do you?"

"I can make an entire menagerie of balloon animals. Poodles, lions, water buffalo, you name it."

"Really?" She was delighted, especially since he'd obviously decided to let his weird mood go. Zach—the easy going, laid-back, fun guy—had returned. "What a great talent to have."

She loved this part of the world, the vast sandy beaches, so different from the cold, brittle Minnesota air; the Atlantic; the hot weather, she loved it. She loved having time alone with Zach and, as awkward as the conversation had been, she was glad they'd talked about the importance of fidelity in their fake relationship.

"So, who booked you for this?"

There was a pause. "Macey."

So much for fidelity. "Macey? You've barely got any time in your schedule and you're going this for Macey?"

"I'm doing it for some kids who could use a laugh," he reminded her.

"And your clingy ex-wife isn't going to be anywhere near, right?"

"Of course she'll be there. She's the one who set this up."

Zach answered questions that were fired at him faster than ones at any media scrum she's ever seen. A dozen or so kids were assembled in the ward, and whether or not they knew who Zach was, they seemed pretty excited.

"What's the fastest you ever drove?"

"About two hundred miles an hour."

"Do you have kids?"

"No."

"Are you a millionaire?" Giggles.

"Yep."

"Is that your girlfriend?"

Zach raised his head and caught sight of Cammie standing in the doorway. A beat passes. There were no media here, no Macey or crowds of fans for who the deception matted. "Yep," he said again, and dropped his gaze back to the group of kids.

"What's her name?"

"Cammie."

This was the guy who'd told her he'd be a terrible father?

"Where's Macey?" Cammie asked him when there was a short pause.

"I don't know. She's suppose to be here, with the balloons."

"Got it. Keep talking. Tell them some of your charming anecdotes. I'll be right back."

He had a bag of ball caps that he'd planned to sign and give out at the end of the show, but Cammie handed it to him now, figuring a change in the program would give her more time to find balloons.

She ran out, cursing Macey all the way to the car. She asked for help in a bakery that specialized in kids' birthday cakes and was directed to a strip mall to find the right kinds of balloons for twisted into animals. Then she got lost trying to find the strip mall.

Cammie came dangerously close to breaking the speed limit on her way back to the hospital.

As soon as she returned with the balloons to the fifth-floor children's ward, she felt a buzz in the air. There was a lot of noise and laughter coming from the open doorway.

When she peeked in the doorway she saw Zach, sitting on a table and surrounded by kids. Kids on crutches, in wheelchairs, kids dragging IV poles and oxygen tanks. No matter how pale or thin, they were all laughing. Many of them held balloon animals, like the one Zach was currently fashioning.

She let out a shaky breath and slid quietly into the room, putting down the bag of balloons. Macey was there, standing unnecessarily close to Zach, handing him balloons.

She wanted to be angry, but Macey actually looked as if she cared about these kids and, whatever her motive it was a good thing. Joe would love this, she thought. What a great photo op. But Joe wasn't here. The media wasn't here. It was Zach and a bunch of kids.

Zach talked while he twisted balloons into what she thought was a giraffe. The way he talked to the shy young girl who was waiting for her giraffe made Cammie's heart flip over. She had long blond hair, a pretty hair and a clear breathing tube connected to a portable oxygen tank. She wore jeans and a T-shirt that announced a fun run in aid of cystic fibrosis funding.

Decided that she wasn't needed, and she'd rather drink hospital machine coffee than hang around watching Macey drool on Zach, she headed back to a seating area she'd noted when they first came in. To her surprise, she found Preston sitting stiffly in one of the chairs flipping through an ancient_ Reader's Digest_. He was the only person there.

"Preston," she said.

He glanced up, nodded, then put down his magazine. "Cammie. I thought you'd be helping with the balloons."

"I think Zach's getting plenty of help. Macey is sitting so close to him you'd think she was a ventriloquists and she was his dummy," she snapped, and then gasped at her own rudeness. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"Macey is never subtle," Preston said. As if that was breaking news.

She nodded.

He picked up a well-thumbed and unsanitary-looking magazine from the stack and then put it down again. He turned to her. "You're probably wondering why I let her treat me this way."

In fact, she'd been wondering that since their wedding day when she first met the three of them. Since he'd opened the door to discussing his private life, she was happy to walk through it.

"Why do you?" she asked, sitting beside him on a brown vinyl chair.

"I love her," he said simply.

Somehow, coming from this pompous, too-rich guy, the words sounded more sincere than anything else he'd ever said in her company.

What could she say? Macey spent a lot more time trying to talk to Zach into getting back together than she did basking in the love of her new husband. She glanced at him uncertainly.

"She loves me, too," he said. Okay, there was the blind ego she'd come to know and not love. He glanced her way and his lips tilted as though he'd read her mind. "She really does love me. She simply hasn't accepted it yet."

"When do you see her doing that?"

"A lot depend on you."

"Me?" Shock had her squeaking out the word like a very inquisitive mouse.

"Why do you think Macey keeps wanting to do these horrendous double dates?"

"I was thinking it was some kind of torture ritual." She said sheepishly.

He smiled slightly and shook his head. "She's watching you. Macey is a…complicated woman. Our background, the three of us, it's complicated, too. Think about it." Here he allowed himself another small, amused smile. "She was the prettiest girl in the town. In the country. I was in love with her from the second I saw her in high school. I mean real, love-at-first-sight stuff."

"Wow. And you waited all this time?" And for what, she wondered, but a big dose of heartache.

"Macey and Zachary were the golden couple growing up. High school prom king and queen, you know the types."

Oh, she did. She'd watched those types from afar all her life.

He took a breath and she saw in that moment the pain of heartbreak he'd endured, that young success story who could get everything he wanted but the girl he loved. "So I got on with my life. Went to Harvard, learned some skills that I hope will keep our factory competitive and our labor force working for the next couple of decades." He glanced at her.

"You didn't marry a nice MBA or law grad?"

"No. I kept waiting, hoping Mace would come to her senses. I could see they were all wrong for each other."

"And yet Zach married Daisy." She blinked, realizing she'd let her private name slip. "I mean, Macey."

But Preston was chuckling. "Daisy as in the Gatsby's Daisy? Not a bad parallel. I hope I end up better than Gatsby, though."

"I hope so, too," she said, thinking more than just Macey's happiness was at stake. "Can't you take Macey away from here? Spending so much time hanging around her ex-husband can't be a good idea."

"I could, of course, find an excuse to take her away from Zachary, but then she's never going to realized that she's over him. Has been over him for years. She not only loves me, but she needs me. I give her stability and—" he sent Cammie a swift, rueful glance "—she gives me excitement."

He might be right that Macey was in love with him. Cammie had seen no evident of it at all, however. Also, she could see what Preston obviously couldn't. Put the two men together and Zach, with his easy charm and slight air of danger, was by far more interesting.

Again, it seemed as though Preston read her thoughts. "I don't pretend to be an exciting man like Zach. I don't even want to be. If you weren't around, I'd be dragging Macey home, but Mace isn't as dumb as she appears. I think she is finally starting to realized that you and Zach have something special and it's letting her accept the possibility that she and I have something special."

"But she's hooked on that reading from her astrologer telling her that she's destined to end up with a man from her past."

He sighed heavily. "Does no on consider the possibility that I am a man from her past."

"It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It only matters what Macey thinks," she reminded him.

"Right. And she's starting to think that maybe Zachary finally found someone who is right for him. When she gives up the idea of getting back together with him, she'll see what's under her nose."

"How can you live like this?" she burst out.

He picked up an ancient Golf _Magazine_ and straightened it on top of an old _National Geographic_. "I miscalculated. I made the foolish mistake of thinking that Macey looked on marriage the way most of us do—as a permanent arrangement, not an excuse for a party."

"I'm sure she wants her marriage to last," Cammie said, more as a sympathetic gesture than that she really thought anything of the kind.

"I'm sure she does, too. And when she sees how happy you and Zachary are, she's going to forget about that astrologer. Cammie, I'm counting on you."

"I'm not what you think I am," she said suddenly, because in the face of such raw honesty she found she couldn't lie to Harrison.

"You don't know what I think you are, so that is a ridiculous statement."

"What I'm trying to say is—"

"Don't forget I've know Zachary as long as I've known Macey. He may hate my guys, but it doesn't stop me from understanding him in a way I doubt he understands himself." He looked at her fully. "He's as terrified of commitment as Macey is. Don't run away. He'll do his best to drive you away, but don't go. I don't mean to be dramatic, but I think all our happiness depends on you."

"Our entire relationship is a pretense," she snapped, unable to stop the words she'd promised not to utter. "The whole thing's an act to make Macey leave him alone."

"Sure it is," said Preston with a knowing arch of the eyebrow that made her want to smack him.

She walked to the vending machine and got herself a coffee. She offered Preston one, but he simply looked at her as if she was out of her mind for drinking that stuff. But then he hadn't run all around a strange town in a panicky search for balloons that turned out not to be needed.

All our happiness depends on you, Preston had said,

She returned to her chair and sat down. She sipped her coffee.

"Okay," she said. "This is none of my business." It was also risky to give personal advice to a man she barely knew, and she didn't usually take emotional risks. Hanging around with Zach was making her as crazy as he was. "But you're making it too easy for Macey."

He looked at her strangely. "I beg your pardon?"

"I know. This is pushy and I am never pushy, but I can't seem to help myself."

"You've been spending too much time with Zach."

She smiled at the way they both assumed Zach was responsible for her changing. "Probably.

"Go on. I suppose I'm desperate enough to take advice from someone who is as hopelessly in love with Zach as I am with Macey."

She blinked and experienced an odd sensation, as though she were about to pass out. "I'm not hopelessly…" She couldn't finish the sentence because she'd always tried to tell the truth and even as she formed the words to deny his charge, she realized he was right. She was in love with Zach. And hopeless didn't begin to describe it.

His face softened and he leaned over to touch her shoulder. "Sorry. Maybe it's not hopeless. What do I know? I should have known it was hopeless when I married Macey."

"No. Your marriage wasn't a mistake." She pushed thoughts of her own romantic troubles aside. "Macey is confused, that's all. She left Zach once and for good reason. You're right. Those two are all wrong for each other. They're too alike. Anyone can see—"

"You can see it and I can see it, but we aren't exactly objective observers."

"Right." She sighed."

"But I'll try anything. What do you think I should do?"

She sipped her coffee again. "What Macey does so well. Play hard to get."

"Excuse me, but I already graduated from high school."

"Maybe, but this crazy love-hate triangle with the three of you sure hasn't."

"And how do you suggest I play hard to get with my own wife?"

"Stop coming with her when she follows Zach around. It can't be any fun."

"Having my liver chewed by cockroaches would be more fun."

"Exactly."

"But…I don't know. If I'm not there she might do something crazy."

"I know. She might convince him to get back together."

"It's a big risk."

"For both of us."

He sat back. Drummed his fingers on the knee of his impeccable trousers. "I've got business at home that can't wait. I shouldn't be hanging around like this as it is."

He stood, paused there another moment, and then, with a sudden nod, as though he'd just made up his mind about something, started walking down the hall in the direction of the balloon party with such determination in his stride that she had to job to catch up.

The balloon animals were all done, and Macey and Zach were spending one-on-one time with a couple of kids. Macey had a little girl about two sitting in her lap, playing with her hair. There were bandages on the girl's legs.

Zach was talking quietly to a couple of older boys while a nurse listened in.

"Macey," Preston said, putting his head into the room. "I'm heading back, Are you coming with me, or do you want to catch up later?"

His wife glanced up in surprise as did Zach. This was the first tiny test. Would Macey choose Zach or Preston.

She wavered, and then looked into the sleepy face of the child still playing with her hair. "I'll come later," she whispered.

Preston sent Cammie a thanks-for-nothing glance and walked away.

Zach didn't appear any more pleased, but after about fifteen minutes, when the child in her lap was sound asleep, Macey and one of the nurses left to put the sleeping child into her crib.

Macey returned a few minutes later and said, "Well, I'd better be on my way. I'll see you two soon."

"Don't you want a ride back?"

She hesitated. "No. I'll get a cab." With a wave, she was gone.

Cammie let out a breath of relief. Preston hadn't won this, but he hadn't lost it, either. It was more of a draw.

"Ready?" Zach said when even the eager young boys had wandered off to watch TV.

She looked at him, at that tough, wonderful face. Preston had been so right. She'd gone and fallen in love with Zach. Dangerous to her heart, terrible risk as a future mate, the man she wanted to spend her life with: Zach.

Ready? Of course she wasn't ready.

Cammie had never been a woman who went after the stars. She calculated the odds and made sure her goals stayed within reach.

Why?

Why did she sell herself so short?

More to the point, her strategy hadn't worked out very well. Her very achievable fiancé was a rat and the company she'd spent all her working life with hadn't stood by her the minute she hit a patch of trouble.

Loving Zach was a risk. Not a risk she could afford, since she didn't believe in taking unnecessary chances. And yet, she didn't believe in the concept of luck, either, and here she was a walking, talking, rabbit's foot. A personal four-leaf clover.

Maybe, she thought, as she stood there, accepting the truth that she'd fallen in love with Zach, maybe some risks were worth taking. A new and potent sense of her own worth percolated through her system. She'd always been content to shoot for the horizon rather than the stars. She'd always assumed it was her personality; now she wondered if she'd simply been too scared to reach beyond her comfort zone.

Since she's been flung so far out of her comfort zone, it was like viewing her life from space. She'd had more fun than ever before. She was respected—okay, wished upon—and valued.

As insight into her life grew, so did the knowledge that she saw in the devil-may-care race car driver a man who was in some ways as fundamentally conservative as she was.

Why?

Why did a man who so obviously loved kids and who was so comfortable with the other drivers' families warn her away from himself as a long-term risk? It was easy to believe that he'd tried to warn her away because she wasn't pretty enough or hot enough or woman enough, but somehow her self-esteem had grown in the short time she'd been with Zach and she saw that he sincerely did believe he was somehow lacking.

Again, why?

It was no longer idle speculation. She really wanted to know, because now she realized she loved him, Cammie—the new and improved Cammie—wasn't about to let him go without a fight.

* * *

><p><strong>Next time on Falling into Place…<strong>

"What does a NASCAR drivier look for in a woman?"

"Shoot. I thought you were going to ask me something easy, like how to calculate the g-force based on wind velocity and metal mass of a car's chassis."

* * *

><p>Okay… so now that this long need chapter is done. I need to explain myself. Life has been rough for me. My parents are going through a divorce right now, my sister is pregnant again, I just went through my freshman year of high school and am now going into my sophomore year with no club where I fit. I have two groups of people I hang out with, but I don't exactly fit in like I'm there and friends with them but, I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid. But I'm going to try and get chapters up faster if I can while juggling school and everything. So please don't give up on me or this story and thank you to everyone who hasn't given up yet.<p> 


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